


If Any Would Avenge

by Jeichanhaka



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), POE Edgar Allan - Works
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Child Death, Drunk Driving, Revenge, Tragedy, anguish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-31 02:05:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 80,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13965009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeichanhaka/pseuds/Jeichanhaka
Summary: A terrible decision of Killian's leads to Gideon's death, renewing centuries of hatred between the pirate and the Dark One. But while Rumple plots to turn Killian's daughter dark in revenge, a trio of sinister newcomers set their sights on Storybrooke. Including one that could cost the Dark One much more than he ever thought.





	1. Tragedy

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Character death/death of a child, drunk driving.

### Chapter One: Tragedy

No.

No. No. No!

Killian muttered and turned ghost white, stumbling backwards onto the rain slicked asphalt. His eyes widened, his horror dimmed only slightly by inebriation. His breath smelled strongly of rum, and his brain was awash with its effects, enough that he barely felt the pain of his broken foot and sprained wrist. 

“No. Please, no.” Killian felt nausea bubbling up in his stomach, as he stared numbly at the mangled car. Fighting the numbness, he darted towards the wreck, stumbling slightly from his broken foot.  
He tore at the mangled car door, using all his strength to pry it open. Even as his hook became lodged in the door and ripped violently from his forearm, he focused on getting to the car-seat just on the other side of the door. His breath hitched after a flash of lightning illuminated the sky above, and the door finally opened. 

“Gid….” Killian faltered, unable to breathe or think at the sight of the two year old’s crushed body. Shaking and swallowing back wave upon wave of nausea, he pulled the tiny body from the wreckage, his senses keen for any sign of life from the toddler. His insides froze at the coolness of the toddler’s skin and the matted blood in Gideon’s hair.

No no no.

Killian felt sick, holding the toddler’s limp body, the day’s events flashing through his thoughts. It’d started off so normal, the only thing unusual was him and Emma offering to babysit Gideon to give the boy’s parents a chance to celebrate their anniversary. 

“No.” Killian shook his head numbly, his rum-inebriated brain pulling away from the reality. A loud crash of thunder pulled him swiftly back, and he frantically struggled to find the cell phone Emma had given him. Searching his pockets and then the road, he tensed - his chest and stomach tightening in panic. It had to be somewhere. It...his breath hitched again when he glanced at the car, at the space beside the child car-seat - the cell phone stared back at him, silently ringing. 

He quickly grabbed it, hoping to get help in time despite his stomach shouting at him that it was too late.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The overhead lights were dimmed, allowing the candle on the table to illuminate the darkened dining room. A soft tune crooned from an antique gramophone matching the ambiance of the flickering flame.  
“...you’re beautiful.” Mr. Gold whispered into his wife’s ear, the two of them holding onto the other and just swaying to the music. Belle smiled demurely, and glanced up at her husband. 

“Rumple….” 

“You’re always beautiful. No matter what, you’ll always be beautiful.” Gold purred and kissed Belle’s ear. One hand about her waist and the other cupping her cheek, he nibbled on Belle’s earlobe. Chuckling at her gasp he continued his oral caress down, trailing kisses along her neck. 

“Rumple….ah.” Belle gasped, her breathing growing heavy as Gold nuzzled her neck. She shivered when he reached her collarbone, nipping teasingly at it. His hot mouth on her skin and the firmness of his hand about her waist felt perfect; the shivers it sent down her spine delectable. Belle closed her eyes, allowing her husband’s ministrations and savoring them. 

“Ah...Belle.” Gold breathed heavily while he sucked on his wife’s collarbone, his starving body enjoying the way Belle quirmed from his touch. His hands inched to the zipper of Belle’s dress, fully engulfed in the moment and thankful they decided on a romantic dinner home for their anniversary. “Ah….”

The sudden clamor of the house phone cut through the dining room, its sharp cry overpowering the gramophone and romantic ambiance. Gold gritted his teeth, almost growling at the interruption, except something stopped him. Instinct? An inner sense that shouted at him that no one would interrupt them unless it was important. He shivered and glanced at Belle, her face reflecting what he felt.

Dread. Alarm.

“Rumple….” Belle’s voice trembled, she watched her husband reach for the phone, her blue eyes wide. Those wide orbs stared beseechingly as Gold answered the call, widening when her husband froze - the look on his face horrific.

“...what? No….” Gold blanched listening to the caller, every second seeming surreal. He grabbed Belle’s hand, holding it tightly. “No, that can’t….”

Belle squeezed her husband’s hand just as tightly as he did her, her lungs burning as Gold hung up the phone, and then flicked his free hand. A puff of dark gray smoke billowed around them, engulfing them in teleportation magic.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tick. Tick.

The clock on the wall in hospital waiting room ticked the seconds by slowly, each click of its hands like a blow from a heavy hammer. Time itself seemed poised to pummel them and rend the present into nothing but prolonged moments of torment. 

“I didn’t...god...bloody hell….” Muttered Killian, sitting down a few chairs from Emma who paced the floor, trying to make sense of the senseless. Her cheeks were drained of most of their color, and her lips pulled thin trembled. “Em….”

“No.” Emma shook her head, covering her mouth with a shaking hand. She took in a deep, steadying breath, fighting the urge to retch. “You...you were drinking. You were drinking and yet you drove….” She faltered, closing her eyes and trying to breathe steadily; she failed and instead fell into a coughing fit. 

“Emma! You need to sit and rest!” Alarmed, Killian grabbed his wife’s hand and pulled her towards the chair next to his. His eyes widened, flicking from Emma’s face to her abdomen, her baby-bump only slightly noticeable beneath her shirt. “You already collapsed once today, please….”

“You drove despite….” Emma swallowed, her brain a mix of emotions, dominated by the urge to either hit her husband or collapse into his arms. She did sit down, but in a chair a few feet away from Killian. “....and now Belle and Gold...they’re going to be….”

“Emma….” Killian tried again to explain, but choked on his words. How could he tell his wife that he was in that car, driving to the hospital despite being drunk, because he’d heard she’d collapsed? How could he tell her that he’d been so concerned about her and their unborn child that he didn’t even think about how stupid he was being when he buckled Gideon in the car seat and drove despite drinking? “I….”

“Where is he?! Where’s Gideon?!” Belle’s voice, hysterical and anguished, interrupted. The way her usually calm voice filled the waiting room, chilled Emma and Killian. Belle’s wide-with-panic blue eyes latched onto the two of them, beseeching them to explain that it was all a hoax; or that the hospital made a mistake. That her baby wasn’t….

“Where’s our son?” Gold growled, trailing close on his wife’s heels. His own anguish tempered by a desperate hope that it wasn’t too late and that he could heal his son. 

“Gold...Belle...I….” Emma started to speak, her throat going dry. She felt the urge to retch climbing up from her stomach, an urge she squashed. “I’m sorry...Gideon….”

“No….” Belle shook her head slowly then more fervently as she read the others’ body language. Her racing heart cleaved and nausea jostled about in her stomach. Behind her, Gold inhaled sharply and reached out to hold his wife; his warm hands holding his wife’s upper arms. He glowered at Emma and then Killian, his scowl darkening more on the pirate. “Gideon’s just hurt...right? He can be healed, right? He….”

“I already tried.” Emma replied, her voice cracking. “By the time I got to him, he was...it was too late.”  
“No.” Belle trembled, tears leaking from her eyes, completely unnoticed by her, but not to Emma or Killian. “No! You’re wrong! He can’t be….my baby can’t be….” She gasped, her throat closing tightly at the thought of her baby - her Gideon - being dead. Her husband’s hands tightened around her arms, drawing her attention to him, the plea in her blue eyes clear. 

Gold nodded, understanding his wife’s silent plea, and agreeing with it. He whispered to Belle. “I’ll heal him.”

“You can’t...he’s already….” Killian stood up, wincing slightly the act put pressure on his broken foot. He had, despite Emma’s insistence, refused to have it be healed by magic. Even after it was obvious Gideon was beyond healing, he had himself insisted Emma focus on the toddler and not waste magic on his foot. 

“Don’t.” Gold silenced the pirate with just a flick of his wrist, magically pushing Killian back down on the chair. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

“But….” Killian protested, only for Emma to grab his arm and shake her head. After quieting her husband, she met Gold’s eye.

“If there’s any chance….do what you have to….” Emma said shakily, and pointed down the hospital corridor. “He’s….the last door down the hall after you turn left.”

Gold nodded curtly, him and Belle heading off towards the room indicated. After they left, Killian turned on Emma.

“Why did you say that? You know as well as I….”

“Gideon’s their son. If there is any chance, any at all that Gold’s magic can heal him….” Emma glowered at her husband, grabbing his hand and placing it on her abdomen. “You would do anything for our child, right? No matter the cost, no matter how little hope there is.”

“Yes. Of course I would. But….” Killian faltered, unable to continue. His wife was right, if there was any chance healing Gideon wasn’t as impossible as it seemed. If there was any chance Gold’s dark magic could revive the toddler….neither he nor Emma had the right to interfere. “I just….”

“Oh!” Emma gasped when she felt her unborn baby kick. Her distressed face brightened as did Killian’s. 

“Did the baby just…?”

“Yeah, she did.” Emma beamed, reveling in the moment, despite everything else that had happened that day. “Her first kick.”

Killian beamed back, staring agog at Emma’s baby-bump, his hand still pressed against his wife’s stomach. He gasped in delight when their baby kicked again. “That’s….”

A distraught scream echoing through the corridor pulled Emma and Killian from their private world and back into reality. The anguish in that scream was much more than either had ever heard, enough to erase the delight their baby’s first kick had brought.

“Belle….” Emma swallowed, tears streaming down her face listening to the monstrous sadness in the other woman’s cry. The kind of cry only a mother could make. 

“I guess not even the Dark One’s magic could….” Killian faltered and pulled his wife close, neither of them knowing what to say or do. They simply listened to Belle’s distraught cries and screams filling the corridor, frozen by their own despair and guilt.


	2. Despair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also posted on tumblr and fanfiction.net.

### Chapter Two

“No.”

Gold stumbled backwards from the bed where his son lay, so still and silent. The sheet that had been placed kindly over the toddler’s tiny body, he’d pulled down to see the damage and fix it. That sheet should’ve warned him not to look, to not unveil the tiny body while his wife was there. It was obvious even before he saw his son’s crushed, broken body, that no amount of magic could fix things.  
He lived for centuries and recognized death. 

“No!” Belle screamed beside him, her horrified eyes and whitened cheeks drenched with tears. Her voice nearly hysterical, she screamed and cried and pleaded, while collapsing to her knees. She screamed until her lungs felt like they’d explode, her words were unintelligible but her anguish cut to the bone. 

“Belle….” Gold reached out tentatively to his wife, his brown eyes wide with fear and pain. Kneeling down beside her, his hand trembled as he touched her back and then pulled her towards him. A gesture meant to comfort and console, as well as to seek the same. His vision blurred with tears as he embraced her, patting her head and back while she cried. “It’s….” Gold faltered, unable to find any words to comfort his wife - it was all he could do not to collapse into a similar state. “I….”

“Rumple.” Belle choked out, her throat raw and voice ragged. She slowly gazed up at her husband, her blue eyes reddened and puffy. Her lips trembled, same as her hands that she lifted to embrace Gold. Staring into her husband’s familiar eyes that held the same anguish as her, Belle opened her mouth to speak - her brain and heart both shouting at her, but without consensus. Her husband, she knew, would want revenge - would want to hurt someone. She had to make him promise not to, it was the right thing to do, yet…. She shook, terrified of the thought that had just entered her mind. Hollering at her, tempting her, and refusing to budge like a deeply set splinter. 

Gold drew in a breath upon seeing the conflict in his wife’s eyes. It was a moral conflict he’d never thought Belle would ever face, one he’d never wanted her to. To seek revenge or not. That was the dilemma he read on her face, and that terrified him. Belle was his light, his compass that kept him from falling back into his old ways, back into the darkness. If she lost her way….if she gave into darkness….  
“Belle,” Gold wrapped his arms around his wife and held her close, shushing her gently when she attempted to speak. “....we’ll get through this….you’re strong, and….” 

“No.” Belle sobbed, shaking her head. “No. I’m not. I want….I….” She swallowed back another sob, unable to say exactly what she was thinking. That someone should pay for Gideon. Her son was dead and she wanted someone to blame, someone to hurt. She took in a deep breath, forcing that thought back into the recesses of her brain. Instead she focused on another. “....why? Why did this happen…? How?”

“That’s something I’m going to find out.” Gold muttered and kissed his wife’s forehead.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma leaned against Killian, her eyes moist and tired. Though Belle’s distraught screaming had stopped, it still echoed in her ears. It resonated with her, reminding her of her first year in Storybrooke when Henry ate the cursed apple turnover. Nearly a decade had passed since that day, but she still remembered how painful it felt almost losing Henry. Yet that, she knew, didn’t come close to what Belle must be feeling. Emma had been able to save Henry, but nothing would be able to bring back Gideon.

“...Killian?” 

“Yes, luv?”

“Why were you driving?”

Killian fidgeted, dreading the question. He had hoped Emma wouldn’t ask it or would leave it for another day. To give him time to think of how to answer, of how to explain. “Luv, I think that’s best to discuss another time.”

Emma lifted her head and stared into her husband’s face, scowling. “No. I want to know. We talked about this before, when you got your driver’s license, no driving after drinking.”

“I know...I….” Killian faltered, gazing into his wife’s face, recognizing the expression she wore. It was one that would not tolerate anything but the truth. Not even if a lie was kinder. “I got a call that you’d collapsed, and I thought about you and the baby, and I panicked. I….” He thought back to when he got the call, and what had gone through his head. “This is a terrible excuse, but I sailed the Jolly Roger before while much more inebriated. I thought I was sober enough to drive. Obviously, I was mistaken.”  
Emma frowned, unable to decide whether to yell at Killian for his dumb decision or not. “Killian….”

Killian simply squeezed his wife’s hand, drawing in a breath as he stared down the hall. He tensed, his gaze locked on Gold storming down the hospital corridor towards them. The fury in the other man was obviously. “Emma, Gold’s coming back.”

Emma squeezed Killian’s hand. She whispered just loud enough for Killian to hear. “We’ll get through this. We tell the truth, and….”

“And if the crocodile just wants to kill us?”

“I….”

“That depends on your response.” Gold growled having teleported just a few feet in front of Emma and Killian. Chills went up Emma spine, same with Killian's, as Gold leered at the couple. Standing menacing before them, his brown eyes cold and livid, the Dark One scowled. His face full of fury, he spat his question through gritted teeth. "What the hell happened? Which one of you is responsible for killing my son?!" His eyes narrowed when neither Emma nor Killian answered immediately, his face twisted with disgust and contempt. "Well?!"

"Gold, I think it'd be best if you...."

"Shut it." Gold hissed and raised his hand warningly, his eyes darting from savior to pirate. The brown orbs darkened as his gaze shifted back to Emma. "Belle and I left Gideon in your care, trusted you to watch him and keep him safe. Yet...." Gold clenched his hand, bristling. 

"Gold, it was an accident." Said Emma trying to explain, her stomach churning from the depth of anger in the man's glare. 

"Shut it!" Gold spat and started magically choking Emma, without compunction. His own pain and rage making him impervious to her pregnant state. "Unless it's to answer my questions, neither of you gets to speak." 

"Stop! Let her go!" Killian cried out in horror seeing his pregnant wife struggling for air. "It's my fault, I was driving drunk. Emma wasn't even there!" 

Gold froze, his fiery anger shifting into a cold loathing. The centuries-old, murderous hatred he'd had for the pirate reignited within the seconds it took to comprehend and shift his attention to Killian. He dropped Emma, who sputtered and gasped for air upon being released. 

"Emma!" Killian hurried to his wife's side, terrified for her well-being and that of their unborn child's.  
"....you....you were drunk?" Seethed Gold. Despite it doing nothing to curtail his anger, until that second he'd assumed the accident had been an unfortunate and even unavoidable one. He bristled and leered at Killian, his wrath more vicious than before. "You were drunk and yet you drove while my son was in your car?" 

"Gold, please don't...." Emma gasped, too weakened to protect her husband as Gold closed the distance between him and Killian. Her eyes widened in panic as Gold sunk his hand into Killian's chest. "Gold! Don't!"

Killian gasped and groaned in pain as Gold wrenched his heart out of his chest. The crystallized crimson organ pulsed in the Dark One's hand. Gold glared at it, and then into the pirate's frightened eyes. A sneer marred his face as he squeezed it slightly, enough that Killian winced. 

"No! Please!" Emma pleaded, lifting up her hand to use her magic to knock Killian's heart from Gold's grip. A sharp pain in her abdomen caused her to wince, throwing off her aim and concentration. "Ah! Shit."

"Emma?! What's wrong?!" Killian's eyes widened hearing his wife in pain, he barely noted how Emma's magic blast flew past them and struck the wall. All he could focus on was Emma curling up, clenching her abdomen in agony. "No! Emma!" The pirate shouted, the commotion finally drawing attention from the hospital personnel and visitors. Though each of them were too terrified of the Dark One to intervene. "Do whatever you want to me, crocodile, I deserve it. But Emma doesn't. Neither does our unborn child. Please." 

Gold laughed coldly, his hand midway to crushing the pirate's heart into dust. He paused upon seeing the terror in Killian's eyes, terror and pain not for himself but rather Emma and their baby. Gold gave another cold laugh and pushed Killian's heart back into the pirate's chest, to both Killian and Emma's confusion. 

"Gold...?"

"A child for a child seems a fitting price." Gold sneered coldly, the darkness within him feeding on his grief and anger. Contorting both until he took delight in the idea that had just occurred to him - to see Killian suffer, he’d hurt anyone. Even the pirate’s wife and unborn child. 

“....No.” Killian tensed at the Dark One’s words, his eyes wide and livid. He lunged at Gold, instinct as a father-to-be moving him to protect his child, even if he died in the process. “Don’t you dare….”

Gold simply flung the pirate aside with a flick of his finger, magically pinning Killian to the floor where he had full view of him and Emma. Sneering, Gold started choking Emma again, this time with his hand rather than magic. His lips twitched into a dark smile as he stared into Emma’s eyes and saw the fear, pain, and anger welling up inside her. 

“You should’ve taken better care of what was mine, dearie.” Gold growled, slipping his free hand to Emma’s abdomen, the Dark One inside him telling him to take revenge. To not let any qualm or compunction stand in his way. 

“Crocodile! You bastard! If you dare hurt her I swear I will take your dagger and plunge it into your worthless heart!” Killian snarled, struggling to resist the magic that kept him bound in place. All the guilt he’d felt earlier about causing Gideon’s death was replaced by his fear for his wife and unborn daughter. 

“What the hell?!” Regina exclaimed, appearing in a puff of purple smoke just feet from Gold. Fearing and accurately gauging the direness of the situation, Dr. Whale had called her when he’d noticed Gold accosting Emma and Killian. 

“Stay out of this, dearie.”

“No.” Regina seethed, using her own magic to teleport Emma out of Gold’s choke hold, and placing the blonde behind her, as well as releasing Killian. “You need to get a hold of yourself!”

“‘Get a hold of myself’?” Gold snarled, his rage redirected towards Regina. He readied a blast of magic to push her away, but froze when he noticed the vial of squid ink she held. He leered at her. “Do you have any idea what they’ve done?!”

“I’ve….I’ve been told the jist of what happened.” Regina answered tentatively, her gut and heart twisting in empathy. “But it was an accident. Tragic and heart wrenching, yes, but….”

“Accident?! That filthy pirate was drunk! He just admitted it himself!” Gold snapped. “He was drunk, yet he drove with Gideon in his car. He killed my son!”

Regina clenched her teeth and scowled at mention of drunkenness being involved. That bit of info hadn’t been shared by Dr. Whale when he’d called. “If that’s true, then Hook will pay for that. With jail time. But hurting Emma...hurting their unborn child….” Regina shook her head, her empathy for the grieving father only going so far. “That is not something I nor anyone else in Storybrooke will tolerate. Your grief is no excuse to hurt a child that hasn’t even taken its first breath yet.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you or anyone else in this fucking town thinks, dearie.” Gold spat and readied a fireball, having thought up a plan to avoid getting hit by the squid ink. 

“Really?” Regina tilted her head, gesturing behind Gold. “Not even Belle?”

“You….”

“....Rumple.” Spoke Belle as she stepped towards her husband, her voice distraught and trembling. It was a tone Gold had never heard his wife use before. “Please, don’t. Don’t do this.”

“But...but Belle….because of them, our son….” Gold turned towards his wife, his rage faltering seeing Belle’s pale, tear-drenched face. “...Belle.”

Belle shook her head, her chin trembling and tears slipping from her red-rimmed eyes. She closed the distance between her and her husband. “Please. Don’t.”

“B….” Tears filled Gold’s eyes, his murderous rage being swallowed by grief and anguish. His heart throbbed seeing his wife tear-stained cheeks and trembling lip. The desperation in her eyes, the loss….He pulled her to him and embraced her, trying to offer her comfort. Kissing her forehead, he whispered just loud enough for Belle and Regina to hear. “All right. I...won’t hurt them further. I won’t. I promise.”

Sighing in relief but otherwise not dropping her guard, Regina turned towards Emma and Killian. “Ok, now….” 

Emma crying out in pain and clenching her abdomen, stifled the words in Regina’s throat. 

“What’s wrong?! Emma?!” Regina hurried to the savior’s side, her face white with fear. Next to Emma, Killian knelt, a look of helplessness marring his face. He glanced fearfully at Regina, wordlessly begging her to help. The mayor nodded and knelt beside Emma, waving her hand over the younger woman in an attempt to heal whatever was wrong. She froze when it didn’t work. “What the hell?”

“Fuck! Ah!” Emma groaned in pain, grasping her stomach. “It’s too soon. It’s too soon.” She mumbled and struggled to not hyperventilate, her eyes wide. Her pain filled cries drew the attention of the hospital personnel who’d loitered nearby, too terrified of Gold to intervene sooner. 

“Emma, what is it? What’s too soon?” Killian asked, though he was terrified that he knew the answer. “Luv?”

“...the baby...she’s com….ahgh!” Emma gasped, a too familiar pain engulfing her body. “Coming.”

“No.” Regina stared horrified at the younger woman. “This is way too soon….” Her heart racing, she turned back to where Gold and Belle had been, only to discover that the couple had left. Teleported away. 

“That bloody crocodile!!” Killian spat, having had the same idea as Regina. Before either of them could continue their tirade against the Dark One, Dr. Whale and a few nurses brought over a gurney.

“We need to start treating her now.” Dr. Whale stated, firm but gently pushing Killian and Regina to the side. His attention on Emma and getting her onto the gurney and into the ICU as quickly as possible. He interrupted when Killian, worried about Emma, started to protest being shoved aside. “I may be able to stop Emma going into preterm labor. But I need to start now.”

“...do whatever you need to...just save our daughter.” Emma pleaded with the doctor, before sucking in a sharp breath, the pain in her abdomen worsening. “Please.”

Dr. Whale nodded, following the gurney as it was wheeled down the corridor. Killian followed too, refusing to leave his wife’s side.


	3. Labor

### Chapter Three: Labor

"You need to wait in the hall." 

"I'm not bloody leaving my wife!" Killian growled at Dr. Whale, standing beside Emma and holding her hand - though it was more allowing her to squeeze his hand until he lost feeling than him holding hers.

Dr. Whale grimaced, about to repeat his order but then just shook his head - it was obvious that Killian wasn't going to listen, and every second spent trying to make the pirate leave was detrimental to his patient. 

"Fine." The doctor muttered, then proceeded to give orders to the nurses. His attention focused firmly on mother and unborn child, hoping to halt the preterm labor. Despite this non-magic realm's advanced medicines, 24 weeks was still much too early in a pregnancy to give birth. And Emma was barely halfway through her 24th week. 

“It’ll be all right, luv.” Killian whispered to his wife, though whether she heard or appreciated it was obscured by her cursing out in pain. He barely felt his fingers, Emma’s hand was so strongly vised around his. Sucking in a breath, his own heart racing, he glanced around him at the nurses and whatnots hurrying about, attaching things to Emma. He didn’t understand the purpose for half of them, having lived most of his life in a realm where having a midwife was the epitome of care received by pregnant women. All he cared about was if these monitors and tubes and whatnot would help Emma and their unborn daughter. “...doctor, what the bloody hell is taking so long to fix this?!”

Dr. Whale ignored Killian, instead focusing on the read out on the monitors and the physical condition of his patient. He did glance at Killian when the pirate repeated his question louder and more vehemently. “....If you want to stay in here, you need to shut up and let me do my job.”

Killian scowled, tempted to hit the other man, but refrained. Though he was stressed and his temper high after Gold’s attack, Killian knew better than to strike out at those helping his wife. Best case scenario would be he’d be booted from the room, worst case it would hurt Emma or their child’s chances.

“Good. Now….” Dr. Whale nodded after Killian settled down, and then turned back to the monitors. Reading the monitors, his eyes filled with alarm - though Emma’s was fine, all things considered, the baby’s wasn’t. It was weaker than it should’ve been and growing weaker. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The room was heavily shadowed and silent, the only movement in it was Gold setting Belle down on the bed. His brown eyes softened gazing on her slumbering face - the product of a sedative-sleeping draught mix that he’d given her shortly after returning home. He sighed. 

“...I don’t deserve you.” He mumbled and pushed a few stray strands of Belle’s hair from her face. “Even though Gideon’s….you still choose not to seek revenge.” He swallowed, stifling the urge to wake up his wife and hold her, to mourn their son together. Simply mourning a loss wasn’t his schtick. “I promised not to hurt Killian or his family further, and I intend to keep that promise.”

His lips twitched, spreading into a thin smirk. Further. It was a pretty useful word: further. He wouldn’t hurt them further. Meaning he wouldn’t harm them any more than he’d already done. It was a promise that stopped him attacking them worse, while also negating any argument that he should reverse what he’d set in motion.

‘Emma should be giving birth soon.’ He glanced at his hand, stretching out his fingers as he thought of the magic he cast. Just moments before Regina had butted in, he’d managed to cast a labor inducing spell. It was one he’d never thought he’d cast - unlike an aging potion, it didn’t speed up a pregnancy to trigger labor. It simply induced it.

It was also irreversible.

_‘We’ll see if fate is still on the savior’s side now or….’_ Gold’s eyes darkened as he mulled over the possible outcomes. Either the baby would survive or it wouldn’t - and he’d expected the latter to be more likely. 

Glancing down at his wife sleeping peacefully, his darkened eyes softened once more. Gold continued his silent watch over Belle, prolonging the moment before he’d have to think about reality again. Before he’d have to face the fact that he’d lost another son - that he’d failed to protect his second son same as the first. 

“Gold?!” The loud swish of his front door opening and a strident voice calling out drew his attention. Belle’s father, Maurice, didn’t even bother closing the door or waiting for an answer, before calling out again. “I got your message. What’s happened?!”

Gold cringed at his father-in-law’s voice, not because it was unexpected - he had invited the other man over, actually more like demanded it in a message he sent just before Belle fell asleep. Rather, he felt annoyed by how loud Maurice was, and worried that Belle would wake up from the noise - she was asleep from a magic-enhanced sedative, not a sleeping curse. Unlike a pure magic spell, noise or the like could awaken her and he was loathed to let anything disturb her rest.

Scowling, Gold entered the hall and shut the bedroom door just as Maurice ascended the stairs. Noticing him, the younger man stopped and studied him, trying to gauge things. Maurice’s whole body tensed. “Gold, you sent a message saying something happened and I should come over. What happened? Is Belle okay?”

Gold nodded and gestured towards the room he’d left. “She’s sleeping.”

Maurice sighed in relief. “Thank god. When I saw I got a message from you saying to come over, I thought….” He fell silent, considering his words and the suspicion gnawing at him. The animosity between him and Gold was considerable, and Gold would never contact him except maybe for a family emergency. Maurice stomach twisted: if Belle wasn’t who was hurt…. “Where’s Gideon? Did something hap….” Maurice didn’t need to finish his question, reading the answer on Gold’s face. He drew in a breath, his heart thumping. “He’s just hurt right? He’s….”

Gold tensed and shook his head, while holding back his tears. The man before him may be Belle’s father and his father-in-law, but he’d never considered Maurice family exactly. And the only ones he’d ever share his pain with were family. “...Gideon’s de...dea...d.”

“No. No.” Maurice gasped and shook his head, his face drained of color. He stumbled a bit, his legs going weak though he managed to prop himself up using the wall. “How...how did Belle take it? Does she know? Or….” 

“She knows. I...gave her a sedative so she could get some sleep.” Gold admitted, expecting the other man to complain about him drugging Belle. He didn’t expect Maurice to simply nod, accepting the admission calmly. 

“That...that’s kind.” Maurice took in a deep breath, struggling with the same thing Gold did - not breaking down. Though whether from being a king and needing to appear strong, or because he didn’t want to break down in front of Gold, was unclear. Swallowing back a sob itching his throat, Maurice brought a shaking hand to his mouth. He stood like that a few moments, taking in deep, steadying breaths and thinking. 

“I called you here because,” Gold broke the silence, not comfortable watching the other man grieve. “I don’t want to leave Belle alone while I….” He coughed, his voice cracking as he thought about what needed to be done. Not revenge, but rather arrangements for the funeral…. 

“Gold?!” Maurice exclaimed as Gold stumbled and nearly dropped to his knees. 

“...I’m fine!” Gold growled when his father-in-law offered him help, and swatted Maurice’s hand away. The funeral. His insides twisted, the sensation like a hot poker searing his flesh and boring deeper and deeper into his gut. The thought of burying another son, and one so young…. He couldn’t endure it. 

“You’re not fine, Gold.” Maurice firmly rebuked his son-in-law. “No father would be. No parent who loves their child would be.” He scowled when Gold repeated that he was fine, but with more anguish in his voice than anger. 

“I need t...to make the arrange...arrangements for….Gideon’s funer…..” Replied Gold, fumbling over some of the words. Taking a deep breath he pulled himself up using the wall and a side table. He glowered when Maurice said something about not having to deal with things alone. “I’m not going to subject Belle to such horrible decisions of which headstone or which coff….” Gold’s voice cracked. “She shouldn't need to make such decisions.”

“Neither should you.” Maurice countered, shaking his head. His expression softer than it had ever been when dealing with Gold, who he’d considered a beast for taking his daughter. “I’m here. I’ll help with the arrangements, with everything.”

Gold leered at the other man, unconvinced of the offer. Belle’s father had never liked him, had never trusted him, and since Maurice often searched for ways to force Gold out of Belle’s life, it was a mutual animosity. The two men stared at each other for a few moments, the hall grown silent. 

“....I just need you to watch over Belle.” 

“Gold, you….” Maurice shook his head, recognizing the stubbornness and distrust mixed together with grief in the other’s eyes. It was the most vulnerable and most guarded he’d ever seen his son-in-law. The most human he’d ever seen the other be. It drove home just how real the situation was - until that second he’d fathomed that what Gold said was a trick. The thought of his grandson being dead was too bizarre, too surreal to accept. And if Gold wasn’t standing before him, so distraught, Maurice wouldn’t have believed it. “...how did it happen? Gideon was healthy and full of life when Belle brought him over the other day. What happened?” His eyes narrowed when Gold shook his head, but said nothing. “It wasn’t something...some scheme or magic backfiring, was it? Because if it was….”

“Of course not! You think I would do anything to risk my son’s life?!” Gold hollered, his brown eyes livid. “It was that damn pirate! Him and his wife! We trusted them to babysit Gideon, just for the day. Yet, Hook gets drunk and decides it’s a good idea to drive with my son in the car.” Gold’s scowl darkened, his murderous rage from earlier reigniting with each word he spoke. “Emma, who I thought would be the one actually watching Gideon, was off doing who knows what, and couldn’t get there in time to heal Gideon after her bastard husband crashed….” The image of his son’s broken body flashed in Gold’s thoughts and he slammed his fist down on the decorative table. It contained enough force to knock over the vase laid atop it. Glowering at it, Gold slammed his fist down again, shattering the pottery. And then again, and again. Until the shards were dust. 

Maurice simply watched, his lips pursed and eyes livid. 

“I want to break every bone in that bastard’s body, crush him into dust.” Growled Gold, picking up the remains of the vase and allowing them to slide from his hand. The sensation of the dust in his hand was similar to that of the remains of a crushed heart sliding from his palm. 

“What’s stopping you?” Maurice asked crisply, his tone earning him a raised eyebrow and curious glance from Gold.

“I promised Belle not to hurt them further.”

“Ah. Hm….” Maurice nodded, ruminating. He glanced at the bedroom door where his daughter slept, then at the broken vase, before shifting to his son-in-law. Next, he turned around and started descending the stairs. Gold stopped him before he made it to steps down. 

“Wait, you need to stay here and watch Belle. I….”

“No. You need to stay here while I go beat the shit out of a certain pirate.” Maurice replied, pulling his arm free from a surprised Gold’s grip. He stared up at the older man’s curious brown eyes. “We may not see eye to eye on many things, Mr. Gold, but one thing I’m sure we can agree on, is no one gets away with hurting family. An accident would be one thing, but if Hook was drunk then that’s entirely different.” 

With that, Maurice turned and continued down the stairs, while Gold just stared after him.


	4. Foreboding

### Chapter Four: Foreboding

“We need to deliver the baby.”

“What?! No. You can’t….” Seethed Killian, scowling at Dr. Whale in disbelief. The whole point of Emma being there, in the hospital with all the equipment and whatnot connected to her, was to prevent her going into preterm labor. And Dr. Whale had already started her on something that he said helped prevent labor.

“But the baby...it’s too early. She….” Emma stammered, staring at the doctor with her eyes wide and fretful. Though the painful spasms that had panicked her earlier were fewer and less painful, her vision blurred. 

“Em?!” Killian squeezed his wife’s hand, alarmed when she lost focus and her head slumped. It lasted only seconds, but both of them realized something was very wrong. He saw it in her eyes, and her sweat glossed forehead. 

“We need to deliver, now.” Dr. Whale repeated, checking the vitals monitor connected to Emma, especially her heart rate and temperature. 

“Dr…” Emma hissed and then cried out, the spasms returning full force. Her vision blurred from tears and fear, and the fever she’d had that morning. Before she could say or do anything more, she passed out.

“Em? Emma?!”

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It was quiet after the tap of Maurice’ footsteps and the click of the door shutting tapered off. A formidable silence enveloped the house, filling its halls and many rooms. More penetrating than the shadows clinging to the corners or light sneaking in through the windows was this quietness. And it was broken only by the near imperceptible sound of Gold picking up the broken vase’ dust and letting it fall back.

“It’s not breaking my promise if Maurice hurts Killian.” Gold stared numbly at his hand as the dust slipped through his fingers, the tiny specks falling to the floor. He watched them, his tired brown eyes lingering on the dust dropping straight downward. “I didn’t even manipulate him. He decided on his own to go after Killian. It’s not….”

“Hhn.” 

A sharp, nigh inaudible, intake of breath as though someone trying to curtail a sob broke the silence. Gold froze a second, immediately turning back towards the bedroom the next. The door clicked shut. “Belle?” 

The sounds of the door locking and another muffled sob were his answer. His heart thumped and he hurried to the door, unlocking it with a swoosh of his hand. “Belle?”

“Go away.” Belle demanded, sobbing and coughing, her eyes and cheeks drenched. She shook her head and backed away with each step Gold took. “Just go away. You always….you always do this.” She spat, her throat sore and voice hoarse. “You always find some way...some twist of words or phrase...to get what you want.”

“Belle. I promised.” Gold took another step closer, but refrained from another as his wife took another step back. The anguish in Belle’s beautiful blue eyes tore at him. “I promised not to hurt them further, and I won’t.”

“What good is a promise from someone who always twists words around to get what he wants?” She spat and glared at her husband, with tear-reddened eyes and a pronounced frown. Her lip trembled. “No!” She snapped and held out her hand in a stop gesture when Gold attempted to get closer. “You’re sending my father to hurt….”

“I’m not sending him anywhere! Your father wants to hurt Killian, decided it on his own.” Gold offered in defense, hurt by his wife’s rejection and rebuke. 

“Convenient for you.” Belle snapped briskly, averting her angry eyes towards the curtained window, away from her husband. “You get what you want while my father gets the blame, not that you care.”

“I….” Gold flinched, hurt by his wife’s harsh tone and the lack of trust inherent in her words. He clenched his teeth, but otherwise swallowed back his anger. If three hundred years of living had taught him anything, it was how grief looked like. The many forms it took, how sharply it could cut. “Belle, come over here, please. You’re grieving.”

Belle tensed and refused to budge, but neither did she back away when Gold approached. She stiffened when her husband wrapped his arms around her, inhaling sharply and refusing to look at him or embrace him. Gold simply held her close, noticing and lamenting the lack of reciprocity but accepting it. He had lost a son before, Belle had not.

“Belle, I’m sorry.” Gold whispered and kissed his wife’s chestnut tresses, his arms wrapped around her. “If you want me to stop Maurice, I’ll do it. I’ll convince him not to hurt Killian.” He swallowed, listening to his wife mumbling about not wanting to lose her father or him. “You won’t. Why would….”

“If either of you hurt Killian or his family, do you think you’d be able to stay in Storybrooke?” Belle took in a shaky breath and glanced up into Gold’s eyes. 

“Belle, if that’s….”

“If we...if we bury Gid….” Belle choked and closed her eyes, allowing a few warm tears to fall. “I don’t want to leave Storybrooke if our son...if he’s buried here.” 

“Aw, Belle. Belle….” Gold muttered and kissed Belle’s head again, his voice close to breaking. Until that moment, he hadn’t thought about that specific ramification for his actions. Being banished from Storybrooke and unable to visit his son’s - either of his sons’ - graves, that thought alone was enough to make him hesitate. But the idea of Belle refusing to leave or doing so and being devastated, killed his desire for revenge. 

He couldn’t lose Belle. Nor could he make her choose between going with him or staying near their son. 

“I’m sorry.” Gold rubbed Belle’s back, his touch gentle as he let her cry on his shoulder. His heart twinged with each of her sobs. And he just held her close offering the only comfort he could. 

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Regina crossed her arms and sighed after finishing putting up the protection spell; even though Gold had promised not to hurt Emma or the child, she didn't trust him. His penchant for manipulating words and situations, for finding loopholes in seemly the most solid of promises and deals, was too well crafted. If he wanted to find a way to hurt Killian in revenge, Regina was sure Gold would figure out a way to do so without technically breaking his promise.

She wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

"Regina!" Snow White called out from down the hall, her and David heading towards the older woman, the latter carrying their son Neal. All three of them were dressed in garments native to the Enchanted Forest, which the nearly four-year-old Neal had expressed interest in visiting for the past few weeks. "We came as soon as we got your message. Where's Emma?! Is she okay?"

“Emma’s fi...she’s unconscious, but she’s physically okay.” Regina replied, correcting her first response of saying Emma was fine. That may be true now, at least physically - between the hospital’s medicine and the town’s magic, they were able to heal her quickly. But neither medicine nor magic had been able to stop Emma giving birth preterm.

Considering what Dr. Whale had explained to Killian, and then Regina when she sided with the pirate over the doctor’s insistence on delivering the baby early, stopping the labor would’ve been worse. 

“What does that mean?” David demanded, shifting Neal so the boy was situated more comfortably. “What happened to our daughter?! What….”

“We’re in the maternity ward….” Snow interrupted her husband, her chest tightening and eyes widening. “Why is Emma here? Did something happen with her pregnancy? Did….” She swallowed, face pale and frightened. “Please don’t say she lost the baby….”

“She didn’t.” Regina grimaced, almost hesitant to say that though it was true. The baby was alive, but only barely, and despite Regina best effort to find a spell to help, her magic was useless. Preterm birth wasn’t something that could be easily remedied. “But...some things happened and Emma...ended up going into labor.”

"But it's too early in her pregnancy….unless she was given an aging potion….”

“She wasn’t.” Regina mumbled and took in a steadying breath, shaking her head. “An aging potion is actually what we need. The hospital and the fairies are doing everything they can to keep Emma’s baby stable, but being preterm isn’t something that can be healed.”

“No.” Snow paled, covering her mouth in horror. Behind her, David placed a hand on her shoulder to both give and receive comfort. 

“There has to be something that can be done. Certainly Gold could make an aging potion to….”

“Gold? No.” Regina scowled and shook her head, disgust gleaming in her sharp glare. “I doubt he’d help. Even if he offered, I doubt we could trust him. Not now.”

“Why not?”

“...What happened while we were away?” Snow White asked slowly, alarmed and tense as suspicions filled her head. Years of conflict, first against the Evil Queen, then various villains after the curse was broken, had instilled an instinct of alert caution. It stopped her from simply running to her daughter and granddaughter’s sides, instead focusing her attention on Regina’s comment about Gold. If the Dark One was a threat again….

Regina stiffened and averted her gaze, her stomach and heart clenching. “Earlier in the evening there was an...accident, involving Killian and the Golds’ son.” She shifted her gaze back to the Charmings, who waited silently, alarmed and tense. “And while Killian’s fine, Gideon….Gideon died.”

“What?! No….” Gaped Snow, shaking her head while instinctively reaching for her husband’s hand. Feeling the familiar, kind hand enveloping hers, she glanced towards her husband who held their son. Her heart wrenched as she stared at four-year-old Neal and imagined what losing him would feel like. It would be hell like when they had to put Emma in the wardrobe, only much worse. 

“I’m guessing that Gold blames Killian.” David mumbled, holding Neal closer even as he tried focusing on anything but the idea of losing his son. His jaw stiffened when Regina nodded, and he thought about Emma and her baby. Then he thought about Gold and the kind of man he was: the revengeful kind. “Emma’s here because of Gold, isn’t she? Some kind of revenge.”

“Yes. I wasn’t witness to the whole thing, but Gold attacked Killian and Emma after learning about Gideon.” Answered Regina. 

“That….” Snow shook her head, horrified and disgusted. “I don’t care how much he’s grieving, attacking a mother and her unborn child is just….wrong.” Snow scowled, before mumbling that she was going to check on Emma and then their granddaughter. David nodded and followed. 

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Hands clenched around the steering wheel of his van, Maurice sped along towards the hospital. At first he’d headed towards Killian and Emma’s house, thinking he’d find the pirate there. But just a glance at the house and its darkened windows, proved his first thought wrong. He pulled his van in front of the house and thought a few minutes, before deciding to head to the hospital. It was possible that Killian was hurt, actually, likely considering the way Gold worded his promise.

Gold said he promised Belle not to hurt Killian further, which meant he’d already hurt the pirate somehow. Perhaps bad enough to need the hospital.

“Unless the bastard’s on death’s door, I’m still beating the living daylights out of him.” Maurice mumbled while driving, scowling. He continued on, passing by the pharmacy and gas-station, not caring how fast he was going. There were no other cars on the road, and the only pedestrian he saw was a darkly clad one coming out of a dirt path leading to a wooded alcove. “That pirate deserves worse than a beating.”

The ringing of his cell phone drew his attention from the road, causing him to swerve slightly. Only for a few seconds, but it was enough to cause him to jolt out of his anger and pull over. He paled, realizing his mistake as he fumbled for his phone. Speeding and allowing himself to be distracted by his cell phone while driving? He might as well adopt the title of hypocrite. Those were just as bad as driving drunk!

“Shit.” Covering his face with a shaky hand and taking a few shuddery breaths, Maurice quietly berated himself. His cell phone rang on, ignored by him as he muttered to himself, and covered his face with his hands. After a few moments he slowly removed his hands, his eyes reddened and moist. He breathed another shuddery breath, allowing the tears he’d held back since leaving Gold’s place to slide down his face. “...what am I doing? I should be making sure Belle’s okay, not….”

The ringing of his phone tapered off, leaving only silence as he wiped his eyes and nose. It was then that it registered with him what ringtone had been playing. His chest tightened and he scrambled for the phone, reaching it just as it dinged with a new message. His hands shaking, he brought it to his ear and listened to the voicemail. 

The seconds later the phone fell from his hand, his face ghost white.


	5. Deal

### Chapter Five: Deal 

“I’m sorry.” Gold mumbled, holding his wife close, his hands trembling as he felt her silent tears fall onto his suit. His stomach clenched, thinking about his attack on Emma and the spell he cast. 

Although he could possibly avoid being wholly blamed if the savior lost her child simply because of his grief-motivated attack, the moment anyone figured out he’d cast a labor-inducing spell on her, he was guaranteed to be banished. Or imprisoned. In either case, he’d have lost not just his son, but his wife as well.

“I love you.” He kissed the top of Belle’s head, thinking about his options and if this method of revenge was worth the price. “I...I need to go. I need to fix something.”

“Rumple….” Belle clung tighter to her husband and gazed up at him with puffy eyes. “Don’t go.”

“I’m sorry. I...I’ll be back very soon.” He kissed her forehead and then teleported away in a cloud of smoke. 

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A Few Miles Outside Storybrooke:

The street outside was sleek, drenched by the light but constant drizzle that’d been falling since early morning. As the day darkened into evening and the streetlamps flickered on, the wet asphalt reflected the lights, glinting prettily. Amid the quiet a motorcycle could be heard rumbling closer, its driver pulling into the rest-stop parking lot. 

Pulling up to one of the fuel pumps, 19-year-old Henry Mills parked his bike and then headed inside to prepay for gas. He also picked up a few things, a new phone charger cord being one of them, along with a pre-charged portable battery. 

“Find everything you need?” The cashier asked when he brought his purchases to the counter. Henry simply nodded, his expression polite but strained as he thought about the voicemail his mom, Regina, had left. His phone’s battery had died before he heard the whole message, but what he did hear had alarmed him.

Something had happened to his other mom, endangering her and his unborn sister. 

“Thank you.” Henry mumbled to the cashier after paying, and he quickly opened the packaging of his new possessions. As he plugged in his dead cell phone, his attention pulled between his task and his worry, he nearly bumped into someone.

“Oh! Watch it.” A man dressed in a dark hoodie and jeans mumbled, annoyed by Henry. His sharp gray eyes glowered at the younger man, barely caring about a hurriedly mumbled apology. He just scowled at Henry a few seconds and then returned to his phone call. “It’s done. The blood price has been paid.”  
Henry shrugged and headed back to his motorcycle, pausing briefly at the door as he considered what the stranger had said. Before he could more than give the other a curious look, his phone started ringing. He quickly answered it.

“Mom? Yeah. I’m on my way back. I….” Henry faltered and paled, listening to Regina explain what happened. About Killian’s crash, and Gold’s retaliation. He swallowed and glanced unseeing at his surroundings, momentarily forgetting where he was. “I’m….I’m not too far from the town, I’ll be there soon.”

He hung up and continued to his motorcycle, almost foregoing pumping the gas he prepaid for in desire to return home quicker. His brain reminding him that he didn’t have enough in the tank to make it back, and that the temporary enchantment placed on the motorcycle had already worn off, stopped him from doing so. 

As he impatiently filled his tank, the man from before exited the store and headed towards a car across the lot. It was an old car, nondescript, except that its front headlight was broken, and its bumper scraped and dented. 

He bit down on his lip and turned back to his motorcycle, his stomach in knots. 

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Storybrooke:

The maternity ward was mostly quiet, not many residents being pregnant or having given birth recently. This sparseness of patients to attend to allowed most of the ward’s personnel to focus on the tiny newborn clinging to life in the Neonatal ICU. 

Killian Jones watched on from the other side of the glass walls. Watched the doctors and nurses working to keep his daughter alive, the fairies nearby to provide whatever magically aid they could. He brought his hand up to the glass, his eyes keen for any glimpse of his daughter - there were so many people and she was so small that it was difficult. Yet he managed to catch a glimpse of her tiny feet.  
His eyes teared up, the sight reminding him of feeling her first kick and how happy he’d felt. The happiest he’d ever felt. It was bizarre that that was just a few hours ago. And now he was the most terrified he’d ever been. 

“Please, luv, hold on.” Killian whispered, silently wishing for the fairies or doctors or someone to fix things. To find some guarantee for his daughter’s survival. Even as he wished that, he knew only one person could guarantee her survival. The same beast that had caused her to be born prematurely. 

Rumplestiltskin. 

“Blasted crocodile...if my daughter dies….” Killian mumbled, trying to banish the thought of losing his daughter. 

“You’d know what it feels like then.” Gold seethed, appearing behind Killian, his dark eyes full of loathing. A hint of a sneer spread over his face when the pirate spun around and lunged at him, trying to sink his hook into him. With a cold smirk and a mere flick of his finger, Gold stopped Killian’s attempted assault. 

“You bastard.” Killian growled, struggling against the magic holding him still. “You lay a finger on my daughter, I swear I’ll take that dagger of yours and plunge it into your heart.”

“Heh.” Gold coldly laughed, bemused by the worthless threat. “You’re at my mercy right now. I could easily snap your neck or crush your heart. Or break every bone in your body...and I’d be vindicated by many in the town, considering you killed my son.”

“I didn’t...it was an accident!” 

“You. Were. Drunk.” Gold snarled, his fingers itching with the temptation to crush the pirate’s neck. Fighting against it, he glanced through the glass wall of the neonatal ICU, his calculating gaze taking in all the people working on the tiny newborn. Each one of them was so focused, not one noticed him or the pirate.

Killian blanched, knowing where Gold was looking. “Please, do whatever you want to me, just don’t hurt my daughter. She’s innocent. She….” He pleaded, his heart racing the longer Gold stared into the neonatal ICU. “Please.”

“...she’s so small.” Mumbled Gold after catching a glimpse of the pirate’s daughter, his scowl unreadable. His lips twitched and he closed his eyes, ignoring the pirate who continued to plead and then threaten. Gold grimaced after a moment, his brow furrowed. 

“Gold! Let him go.” Regina demanded, the clicking of her heels audible as she approached. Although she knew her protective spell wouldn’t keep Gold away for long, she had thought it would have lasted a bit longer. Luckily she had included a detection spell to warn her when the protection spell was breached. 

Gold didn’t reply straight away, his eyes still shut. The next second he opened them, a curious gleam in his eyes. 

“Gold….” Regina readied a vial of squid ink, prepared to throw it at the man. It would be a temporary measure to halt Gold, but one long enough to grab the Dark One dagger. 

“Fine, dearie.” Gold released Killian, the curious gleam still in his eyes and an hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his lip. It was a sight that unnerved Killian, the pirate more tense and alarmed than he was before. “I didn’t come here for the mangy pirate anyway.” 

Killian bristled, not missing the glance Gold made towards his newborn daughter. Snarling, Killian grabbed the other man by the shirt, his fear of the Dark One overpowered by his paternal instinct to protect his child. “If you came to hurt my daughter further, crocodile…..” 

“What kind of monster do you take me for?” Gold replied, flashing a mirthless grin at the pirate. It was a cold smirk, made colder by the loathing darkening his eyes. His tone, his words, the way he allowed Killian’s assumption and suspicion to simmer - it was obvious he was goading the pirate to attack.

“Enough!” Regina magicked herself between the two, catching on to Gold’s manipulative play. “Hook, you’re in hot water as it is, don’t let Gold bait you. And Gold,” She glowered at the Dark One. “If you hurt Emma’s baby, I will personally see to it that you’re locked up in a worse prison than even that cell you were in in the Enchanted Forest.” 

Gold scowled, his face twisted with quiet loathing and biting anger. “I’m not the one who should be imprisoned. He is. His blatant disregard for safety got my son killed. And while there are no laws in the Enchanted Forest against drunk driving or to punish it, there are in this realm. I believe the penalty is five to ten, sometimes even as many as twenty-five, years of imprisonment for causing a death while driving drunk.”

“What?! You’re really applying this realm’s laws now? After all these years of people being killed and various other laws being disregarded, now you’re bloody focused on the laws of this realm?!” Killian hissed and scoffed, the urge to deck the other man nearly unrestrainable. It simply increased when Regina didn’t immediately rebuke Gold’s hypocritical remark. “Fine. But if I do jail time, so should you for attacking Emma. For causing her to give birth too early. And if my daughter dies, you should be imprisoned for murder.” Killian spat, disgust and anger twisting his face. “What I did, as stupid and tragic as it was, that was an accident. But you, you deliberately assaulted Emma - attacked her with the intent to hurt my child. My unborn child. Your grief will only excuse your actions so much, crocodile.”  
Gold glowered at Killian, glaring at him with a hatred fiercer than any he felt towards the man before. Mixed in with it, was a bit - a sliver - of remorse, not for hurting the pirate bastard or his wife, but for hurting the man’s child. While lost in his rage earlier, the idea of a child for a child had seemed justified, but after talking with Belle and now seeing the tiny, defenseless newborn, he knew it wasn’t.  
“Hook has a point, Gold.” Regina spoke, drawing the latter’s attention to her. Though she didn’t voice it, it was clear that she suspected the truth - that Emma’s preterm labor hadn’t been just from the trauma of being attacked. “If their baby dies, you won’t be allowed to walk free in Storybrooke.”

“Good thing I brought this then.” Gold magicked a potion vial in his palm and held it out, offering it to Regina. He cocked an eyebrow at the suspicious leers Regina and Killian gave. 

“What is that?” Killian bristled, eyeing the potion warily.

“A specially tweaked aging potion crafted to age your daughter just enough to be a healthy, full term newborn.” Gold replied, allowing Regina to take the vial. 

“What do you want in return?” Killian asked, his heart racing at the thought of being able to guarantee his daughter’s safety. His eyes narrowed when Gold shook his head. “You want nothing? I don’t believe that for a second.” Addressing Regina, Killian continued. “Either that potion is fake or it’ll do who knows what. Don’t use it.”

“Really? You’ll risk your daughter’s safety because I may be up to something?” Gold scoffed, shaking his head. “Has it never occurred to you that maybe there are some lines I won’t cross. Or that I may regret crossing?” His eyes narrowed at Killian scoffing at his words. “I admit I went too far. I do want to kill you and see you suffer, but attacking a defenseless child….” He glanced towards the tiny newborn, still struggling just to survive and surrounded by people determined to help. “But...you’re right, there is something I want.” Gold took in a slow, steadying breath. “Seeing as I’m soon to have two sons buried in Storybrooke, I want a guarantee that I won’t be banished. Ever again.”

“Deal.” Emma cut in, surprising the trio as she approached. “As long as this potion does what you say, it’s a deal.” 

“Emma! You can’t seriously trust this bastard!” Killian exclaimed, approaching his wife. “He’s the bloody reason our daughter is fighting for her life.”

Emma swallowed, backing away from Killian’s embrace. Her gaze shifted to her daughter inside the neonatal ICU, her eyes terrified but also filled with determination. Just staring into her eyes, Killian understood and felt the same way beneath his anger: the only thing that mattered was their daughter’s survival. 

“It’s a deal.”


	6. Blood Price

### Chapter Six: Blood Price

Gentle eyes stared wistfully around the room, at the bed and dresser, the toy chest, and the little night light beside the bed, its soft glow faint. On the nightstand next to it were a few toddler books, filled with brightly colored pictures and large lettering, some of it added by a mischievous child’s hand. Belle approached her son’s bed and picked up the top book, sitting down on the mattress. She ran her fingers over the cover, and then the name handwritten on the inside front cover. The lettering was large and blocky, parts of it more like scribbles than characters. Her chin wrinkled up and trembled, her son’s handwriting staring up at her. 

She remembered when he did that, shortly after his second birthday. She’d gotten Gideon that book as a present and he had insisted in trying to write his name in it. He’d managed to write the first two letters of his name, large but legibly, the rest were more scribbly. When she saw what he’d done, she hadn’t known whether to chastise or praise him. Chastise him for writing in a book. Praise him for his ability to write at least part of his name. 

Tears streaming down her face, Belle shut the book and held it to her chest. Hugging it close like the son she could no longer hold. Her darling little boy, once lost then regained, now lost again - this time forever. Or at least until death reunited them. Her chest ached and she held the book tighter, listening to the silence of the house. After a full day of taking care of her rambunctious son, teaching him and keeping him from getting hurt while playing, she’d often enjoyed the moments of quiet when he slept. Wished for them during the most hectic of days, so she could curl up and relax with a book. 

“No.” Belle sobbed and gasped, the silence suffocating. She shut her eyes tighter, trying to ignore the gnawing emptiness of the house. “This can’t be real. It has to be a nightmare. Or a trick. My son can’t….” Her lips trembled, the image of her son’s broken body flashing torturously behind her eyelids. She gasped and nearly choked as her throat tightened, bile bubbling in her stomach. Running from the room, she barely made it to the bathroom door before retching. 

She retched and coughed and sobbed, collapsing against the door frame. Her body shaking, she slid to the floor, her son’s book still in her hand. The quietude of her surroundings - the overbearing solitude - sinking into her marrow. She was alone. Her father was off to pummel Killian for revenge. Her husband was off fixing something - knowing him, he’d probably cast some spell at the hospital before she’d stopped him. Despite the brevity in her husband’s promise, she hadn’t missed the adverb he’d tacked on. Further. Rumple had added that word to his promise to not hurt Killian or Emma or their child.

“Oh god.” Belle covered her mouth, dry heaving at the thought that’d occurred to her. Had her husband, in his grief-fueled anger, done something to Emma’s child? Is that what he needed to fix? The reason he wasn’t here beside her, grieving with her, was it because he’d done something much more horrendous than she’d ever believed he was capable? She shivered and crossed her arms over her abdomen, before bringing her knees up. Like a petite ball, she huddled against the door frame, not wanting to think any more. Or feel. Her heart and lungs burning.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~

His narrowed, brown eyes glared coldly through the glass wall surrounding the neonatal ICU, taking in the sight of Emma and Killian fussing over their daughter. The newborn healthy and hearty after being given the aging potion. Seeing the happiness on their faces, especially the pirate’s, Gold had to fight the urge to break something. His fist clenched as he imagined crushing Killian’s heart - he could still do it, right in front of the pirate’s wife and daughter. 

“Don’t even think about it.” Warned Regina, standing only a few feet from the Dark One, her arms crossed. “I may not be able to banish you from Storybrooke because of the deal, but that doesn’t mean I can’t imprison you. Besides, you made Belle a promise, that you wouldn’t hurt….”

“I know what I said. I don’t need you reminding me.” Gold grumbled, turning towards the raven-haired mayor. His lips twitched catching the suspicion in Regina’s eyes. “You don’t trust me.”

Regina gave a cold, scoffing laugh. “With your appetite for vengeance, and your and Hook’s history, I don’t believe for a moment that you won’t find some means of hurting him.”

“I made a promise. I won’t hurt him.” Gold drawled, emphasizing the first-person pronoun in his second sentence. He smirked coldly and leered at Regina, his gold tooth visible. “Belle’s father, on the other hand, hasn’t made such a promise. He shouldn’t be too much longer getting here.”

“Maurice is on his way to hurt Killian?” Snow White asked, having just come back from the vending machines in the waiting room. After learning that their granddaughter was out of danger, she and David had discussed who would go home and watch Neal and who would stay at the hospital. At first they’d leaned towards David staying, but when they’d learned that Killian had been drunk while driving, which led to the accident that killed Gideon, David’s first response was a desire to deck their son-in-law. She’d convinced him not to, at least not tonight, and to instead go home with young Neal. 

“Yeah. He sped off in his van after hearing what happened.” Gold replied, a cold smirk on his face as he considered staying and watching Maurice pummel Killian. It wouldn’t be as satisfying as crushing the pirate’s heart, but it would be enjoyable. Enjoyable enough that Gold wondered if he should just use magic to teleport Maurice to the hospital rather than simply wait for the younger man to arrive in his van.

“Wait...you mean Belle is alone right now?” Snow asked, her eyes wide. The concern she’d had for her son-in-law eclipsed by concern for a fellow mother. “She shouldn’t be alone now. You should go to her.”

Gold stiffened, glowering at Snow White, suspicious and angry at the woman’s concern for his wife. Although Snow was kind and good, she was Killian’s mother-in-law and Gold couldn’t bear any kindness or concern from that pirate’s family. Whether that family was by blood or marriage.  
She did have a point though.

With a final glance towards Emma and Killian fawning over their daughter, a glance filled with envy, enmity, and pain, Gold teleported away. Disappearing in a dark cloud of magic. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~

His hands no longer shaking and his cheeks no longer pallid in horror, Maurice picked up his cell phone from between the driver and passenger seats. Dread continued to gnaw at his stomach, the voicemail echoing in his ears, filling them with its damning words.

_‘....the blood price is paid...but that...it couldn’t have meant…..’_ Maurice shivered, trying to stifle the gnawing dread roiling in the pit of his stomach. He took in a deep breath, shuddery and without an hint of calm. His hands shook as he brought the phone back to his ear and replayed the voicemail.

_-“Oh, leave a message? Why sure, like old times.” A brusque voice, tinged with an undercurrent of chilling amusement, spoke. “The blood price you owed has been paid, your majesty. Your debt with Nemesis is cleared.”-_

“Oh god.” Maurice choked, wiping his eyes as he stopped the voicemail. Its meaning clear, though he fought against understanding it. Every fiber of his will fought against accepting what his gnawing gut screamed at him, what the blood price in the voicemail meant. 

A death to pay for a death. 

_-“We lost members of our...family. It’s only fair you lose some of yours.”_ -

“No….” Nausea filled Maurice’s stomach, his heart thumping and feeling as though it was being rent by a thousand knives. The memory from so many years ago popped unbidden into his thoughts, breaking free of the mental alcove filled with all the decisions he’d ever regretted. “It had to be an accident. It had to. A drunken accident caused by that pirate, not….”

Even as he mumbled those words, trying to reassure himself, Maurice slumped back in his seat, tears streaming down his face. He remained like that a few more moments before composing himself, trying to get his racing heart to relax and his trembling to lessen. 

_‘I should go to the hospital and see….’_ A pause, then a shuddering breath. _‘Gold’s with Belle, he’ll make sure she’s all right….’_ Maurice gripped the steering wheel tightly, thinking about his daughter and how distraught she must be. He swore. “Of course she won’t be all right. How could she?”  
Battling against his own despair, Maurice wiped the rest of his tears away and pulled away from the curb. Instead of continuing on towards the hospital, he turned onto the street leading back to Gold’s and Belle’s house. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~

The first thing Gold noticed upon returning home was the quiet saturating the house. More quiet than he’d grown used to since Gideon was born. Unlike Belle who enjoyed the calm silence as much as he did, their son had loved making as much noise as possible. Running around and getting into everything since the moment he started crawling. Hearing the toddler running around when he’d return home, had always brought a smile to Gold’s face. It reminded him of Baelfire as a child, and made him really feel like he’d gotten his happy ending. 

_‘Damn it.’_ He staggered, the quiet of the house hitting him. Blinking back the tears and taking a steadying breath, Gold glanced around him, having teleported himself just outside the master bedroom. He slowly opened the door, wondering if his wife had decided to try to get some rest. “Belle?” His brown eyes swept over the room, noting it was undisturbed from when he’d left for the hospital. Everything in its place, aside from the blanket, which was ruffled and thrown to one side of the bed. Not surprising, considering Belle had woken from her sedative-induced sleep before he left, and neither of them were currently concerned about tidiness.

“...Rumple?” His wife’s voice called out from down the hall, the sound so meek and broken. It cut Gold’s heart just hearing it. He swiftly headed towards it, mentally berating himself for leaving in the first place. Though if he hadn’t gone back to the hospital….

“Belle, I’m here. I’m home.” Gold called out, passing by the broken vase and towards the back of the house. His stomach knotted as he reached Gideon’s bedroom, wondering if his wife was in there, grieving. A sob pulled his attention from the room, and towards the turn in the hall leading to the bathroom. His eyes widened. “Belle!”

Seeing his wife curled up against the bathroom door frame, her cheeks drenched enough that her chestnut brown locks clung to them, he felt his heart cleave. He knelt beside her, not worrying about the mess on the floor - vomit stains on his clothes were the least of his concerns. His brown eyes softened beneath oblique eyebrows when he noticed the toddler book in Belle’s hand, and he tried to smile a reassuring smile as he embraced her. 

“Belle, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you here alone.” He kissed her forehead and pulled her closer, brushing away the strands of hair clinging to her cheeks. Cupping her face with his hands, he smiled sadly down at her, not knowing what else to say. 

“Rum...ple….” Belle breathed, her eyelids fluttering as she gazed up at her husband with glazed eyes. Alarm filled her husband’s eyes, his lips parting to speak - it was then that he noticed what Belle held in her other hand. A pill vial, nearly empty. The same one containing the magic-imbued sedative he’d given her earlier. Only, it should’ve been nearly full.

“No no no. What have you done?! Belle!” Gasped Gold, panic pulsing through his body, filling every cell. His heart raced, his chest burning as a sensation akin to having all the air in his lungs sucked out engulfed him. For a moment his mind was blank, forgetting about magic, about everything except the weight of his wife’s body in his arms. 

Coming to his senses, he waved a trembling hand over Belle, casting a healing spell. Or trying to. It worked for a few seconds, faltered, then worked, before faltering again. 

“...come on!” He growled, scowling at his hand. Belle was still breathing, though faintly, and her heartbeat was weak, but still there. That wasn’t the problem. The issue was emotion - magic was controlled by emotion, and the tumult of grief, pain, dread, and worry whirling inside him overwhelmed his concentration. That didn’t completely impede his magic - he was the the Dark One after all - but it did affect his control. And that simply added to tumult inside him. If in his effort to heal Belle, he ended up hurting her…the thought alone made him falter. “...fuck!”

_‘Concentrate.’_ He bit down on his lip, until the coppery taste of blood hit his tongue. He did the same thing with his hand, clenching his fist tight until his nails drew blood. The physical pain gave him a focal point, a way to ignore the other emotions raging within him. Calmer now, he slowly waved his hand over Belle again, the healing spell much more steady. He sighed with relief when he heard his wife’s breathing grow steadier and sensed her heartbeat strengthen. 

“...if I lost you, Belle, the same day as Gideon….” Gold flinched, the image of his two-year-old son’s body filling his thoughts. Pulling his hand back, he covered his eyes, trying to chase away the image. Glowering through his fingers at the pill vial, he felt bitterness spread through his veins, and with a flourish of his fingers he disintegrated it. 

“....Rumple…?” Belle’s eyes flickered open, staring groggily at her husband for a few seconds before shutting again. Her head placed against Gold’s chest, she slept - the result of her husband quickly casting a sleeping spell as he stood up with her in his arms. Without a word he brought her to the master bedroom and laid her down to rest, tucking her in just as quietly.


	7. Past And Future Echoes

### Chapter Seven: Past And Future Echoes

“Really? That’s great news!” Henry grinned widely and sighed, the tenseness that’d been building inside him dissipating. Sitting on a motel room bed, cell phone to his ear, he listened to Emma, relieved as much as she about news that his baby sister was well. “I can’t wait to meet her. What’s her name? Or have you and Killian not decided yet?”

_-“We’re still deciding. But we’ve narrowed it down to a handful of names.” Emma replied, her smile audible in her voice. “Regina said you were on your way back home. So, what time do you think you’ll reach Storybrooke? I can’t wait to see you.”-_

Henry chewed on his lip, and lied down on the bed, his gaze lingering on the furniture and decorations in the motel room. “I should be there sometime in the morning.”

_-“What? Didn’t you tell Regina you weren’t that far away?”-_

“I was. But….something came up.” His expression shifted as he thought about the car from the rest stop gas station. Something about its scraped side and bumper chilled him, though it may have been because he’d just heard about Killian’s accident before seeing it. “Any way, I thought it’d be better to make sure I didn’t drive while tired. I didn’t want to...well, you know.”

_-Emma swallowed, a frightened frown on her face. The idea of Henry getting into an accident enough to let her forego asking her son to explain further. “All right. Stay safe, and if you need someone to pick you up or whatever, call me. Okay?”-_

“I will. I love you, mom.”

_-“I love you too, Henry.-_

With that Henry hung up the phone and put it away, his gaze shifting towards the motel room window. Three spaces past his bike was the car he’d noticed at the gas station, its owner having taken a room at the same motel just a few minutes after Henry. His brow furrowed as he stared at it, but his concentration was toppled by drowsiness spreading through him. 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_The young woman regarded the two before her, an aggrieved gleam in her bluish eyes. Her long ebony locks of hair swayed in a slight breeze, and her pearl skin almost glowed beneath the twilight. The crystalize heart in her hand contrasted brilliantly with her skin and the night surrounding them._

_“That bloody crocodile’s corrupted you. This isn’t you.”_

_“Don’t do this, please.”_

_The young woman ignored their pleads and squeezed, the heart in her hand becoming dust._

-

Inhaling sharply, Gold’s brown eyes shot open and he placed a hand on the spinning wheel absentmindedly, the vision fading. It was identical to the one he’d had in the hospital, just outside the neonatal ICU. Three people standing in a clearing, surrounded by towering trees and heavy foliage. Two of them he’d recognized - their faces bore signs of aging about two extra decades worth, but they were without a doubt Emma and Hook. The younger woman, with the deep black hair and pearl skin, he didn’t recognize. 

He knew though, based on how Emma and the pirate acted, and the fact he’d received the vision while trying to discern their child’s future, that that woman was their baby. That young woman squeezing someone’s heart to dust was Emma and Hook’s daughter. Gold’s lips twitched in delight, especially considering the pirate’s words in the vision.

 _‘I doubt a more delicious revenge exists, corrupting his daughter and darkening her heart.’_ He coldly chuckled, spinning the wheel as he thought. Unlike a mere scheme for revenge, this particular vision wouldn’t fail. Its clarity and staticity was evidence of that fact. Everything up to it may be mutable, but that outcome was not. _‘I’ll get my revenge. It’ll take years, but I’ll see that pirate suffer. I’ll corrupt his daughter, turn her heart dark.’_ He chuckled again, eyes lit with dark enthusiasm. _‘And if anyone tries to banish me to prevent that...I’ll get my revenge much sooner.’_

The sudden tapping of knuckles on the basement door broke the quiet, pulling Gold from his dark musing. His eyes narrowed, glaring at the door, and his scowl deepened when his interloper spoke.

“Gold?” Maurice spoke, his voice loud enough to carry through the heavy door. “It’s morning. I...I’m going to make breakfast and try to get Belle to eat. Would you like….”

“I’m fine.” Gold replied gruffly, irritated by the man’s presence in his home, but accepting of it. After returning home last night and finding Belle like he had, Gold didn’t want to leave his wife alone for a second. But he also didn’t trust himself around her - not with the urge building in him to holler at her for nearly leaving him in a way he could not follow. His stomach twisted thinking what would’ve happened if he hadn’t returned home when he did. 

If Belle died the same day as Gideon, and in such a way as suicide, Gold would give up even trying to resist the darkness. What would be the point? Belle and Gideon were the only reason he fought against the temptations of the Dark One dagger and the power it granted. For two years he’d resisted it - much longer than he’d ever had - because he loved his family and didn’t want to risk losing them. 

_‘That ship’s already sailed, has it not? Thanks to that pirate.’_

Gold bristled, listening to the Dark One inside him; its manifestation standing behind him in the form of his scaly imp self. The childish pitch to its voice irritating, it’s words cruel and tempting. 

_‘It’s all fine and good, saving Hook’s daughter just to use her for revenge in the future.’_ The Dark One manifestation crooned, an undercurrent of dark amusement in its voice. _‘But waiting years for revenge….that’s a bit lackluster and unfair. He’ll get nearly two decades with his daughter, while you only got two years with Gideon. Not to mention Bae….’_

“Don’t…!” Gold spat at the manifestation, hand raised instinctively to magically choke it despite knowing that it was just a projection of his Dark One subconscious. He glowered, remembering his first son Baelfire and how he died a hero, but also remembering how hollow that’d felt. 

_‘That pirate will get more years with his daughter than you got with either of your sons.’_ The manifestation sneered. _‘Considering that, corrupting his daughter just doesn’t have a big enough payoff, now does it, dearie?’_

“....” Gold glowered, the apparition’s words aggravating in their truth. Clenching his teeth, he fought against the manifestation’s lulling words. He thought about Belle, about what she would say - she had stopped him at the hospital. Despite losing Gideon same as him, she hadn’t succumbed to darkness.

 _‘Sure, she stopped you killing Hook’s family, like heroes do. But that ‘good heart’ of hers didn’t prevent her from trying to off herself.’_ The apparition taunted and tittered, acting like his annoying imp self complete with gestures. _‘She would leave you, at this most trying time and in such a fatal way. Yet you know she would still beseech you to do the right thing.’_ The imp paused for dramatic effect, allowing its words to sink in. _‘You have to admit, she’s asking a bit too much of you, dearie. It’s a bit too much to ask of anyone, let alone someone you profess to love.’_

“Enough!” Gold growled at the apparition, angry and hurt and filled with loathing. The urge to strangle his Dark One manifestation, with its barbed taunts designed to tempt him back into the darkness, as overwhelming as it was impossible. “....Belle just had a moment of weakness….I shouldn’t have left her alone. I should’ve stayed….”

 _‘Really? A guilt-trip?’_ His scaly imp apparition asked, incredulous and derisive in its tone and gesture. _‘When did you become a masochist? You’re grieving Gideon same as Belle, and yet she gets to do whatever she wants in her grief, but you do not. Nevermind that you left her to avert another tragedy - to fix a rash decision on your part before another innocent child died.’_ The imp narrowed its eyes, a half-smirk on its face. _‘Belle would’ve wanted you to do that, had there been time to explain. Yet….’_

“Shut up.” Gold grumbled and closed his eyes, a heavy frown on his face. His heart felt gnawed upon, a numbness spreading out from it. Reaching out to touch the spinning wheel, his fingers trembled and he took in a deep breath. There was nothing he wished for more than to hold his wife and to grieve with her. Yet each second he saw her, he could feel her unresponsive body in his arms and seeing her nearly dead cut keenly into his chest. Part of him wanted to keep close to her even more, never letting her out of his sight; yet remembering that vial in her hand and knowing what she’d done, he felt betrayed. And unbearably numb.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_-Enchanted Forest: Before the Curse-_

_“You’ve cost us, your majesty.” A darkly clad messenger crooned, bowing mockingly at the last part, his tone equally as derisive. He leered at Sir Maurice, the knight-lord who dressed like a king and performed the duties of one, but had the misfortune of ruling too small a land to be titled a king. The crimson gleam in the his eyes belied the almost jovial nature of the jeer - it sent shivers through Maurice. “Three of our best, in fact. Not to mention the other lesser ranked members we sent first.”_

_“That is my fault?!” Maurice glowered at the messenger, raising his voice in frustration and annoyance. What fear he felt from the other’s glowing eyes was eclipsed by a greater fear - a paternal one. “Your organization guarantees success of all the...jobs...it takes. You failed.”_

_A dry, cold laugh spewed from the darkly clothed man, his fiery eyes darkened by his eyelids and hood. “Because you left out a key detail about the target when you hired us. Now, why you’d would want to assassinate the Dark One, I don’t care. A job’s a job. However, hiring an assassins group from a distant realm with no prior dealings with any Dark One, and not informing them of the potential difficulty and danger of the job, that is something I and my fellow assassins, do care about. It means you either wanted to pay less for the job or couldn’t find any local mercenaries who’d take the job. Or both.”_

_“That’s….” Maurice swallowed, noticing the curved crimson tanto the messenger had unsheathed. His stomach twisted as he considered the group’s reputation: deadly assassins who never failed._

_“Considering what you paid, and the um, lack of wealth your 'kingdom' seems to possess, I’m going with the former reason. Which is most unfortunate for you.” The darkly clad man moved closer, clenching the blood-red blade tightly._

_“Wait! Wait! I’ll pay you. Whatever the price should’ve been, I’ll pay it. And you don’t even have to complete the job.” Maurice stammered, his heart racing at the thought of death. Especially one that neither served nor protected his kingdom or his family._

_“Heh. Heh.” The assassin coldly chuckled, brandishing his tanto but not continuing his approach. “You’re offering to pay us what should’ve been paid originally, but without needing to complete the job? How amusing.” He leered at the lord, his crimson eyes glowing fiercely. “That would’ve worked, had we not already lost three of our most talented members going after the Dark One.” There was a pause while he thought, his eyes boring into Maurice’s terrified ones. With a laugh, he slid his tanto back into its sheath. “A blood price needs to be paid.”_

_“A...bl...blood price?”_

_“We lost members of our...family. It’s only fair you lose some of yours.”_

-

The whistling of the kettle brought Maurice’s attention back to the present, chasing away the memory. At least temporarily. Clearing his throat which felt ready to close up at any moment, he left his chair at the large dining table to fix some tea now that the water was boiling. 

“What am I going to do?” He muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose to brace against the throbbing of his head and the tears building at the corners of his eyes. As the whistling of the kettle died down and the quiet descended once more, with not even the soft tap of a footstep carrying down from the floor above nor the basement, Maurice hung his head. 

He stared into the teacup, thinking about his daughter. When he made it back last night, after foregoing his original plan to accost Killian, he’d discovered Belle deep asleep in bed. Upon first glance, he’d thought she had been asleep since he first left - but then he saw the mess on the bathroom floor and then the toddler book on the table that had held the crushed vase. It wasn’t proof that Belle had been awake, but he doubt that the mess in the bathroom was made by his son-in-law. Maurice suspected Gold was the type of man who would be destructive in grief, not the kind who got sick from it.

“Colette, what do I do?” Maurice muttered, praying to his deceased wife, his voice heavy. He brought the teacup to his lip and sipped some of the amber liquid, his hand shaking. “Our daughter’s hurting, and it’s my….” His throat tightened, the voice from his memory and from the message last night filling his thoughts. If that message meant what he believed it did, that that Nemesis assassin had had a hand in Gideon’s death, then not only was it not an accident but was also his fault. He’d incurred the ire of that assassin and the rest of that ‘family.’ _‘How can I ever tell Belle?’_

Maurice inhaled a shaky breath and bit his inside cheek, willing his thoughts onto something else. His eyes narrowed, focusing on his daughter’s husband. Gold claimed to love Belle, and Maurice had expected the older man to be grieving together with her and offering some bit of comfort. Instead Maurice had discovered Gold in the basement last night, spinning and grieving alone. Understanding the depths of grief and the different ways people dealt with it, Maurice had given his son-in-law son leeway, but it was now after daybreak and Gold had yet to leave the basement. 

“How can I trust Gold with Belle if he won’t even leave the basement…?” Maurice grimaced, shaking his head and sighing. “There’s so much to see to arranging...the funeral and….” He covered his lower face with his hands, his eyes red-rimmed. “....I don’t know if I can handle this.” Closing his eyes, he allowed himself a few moments of grief before taking a deep breath, holding it a bit, and then releasing it slowly. “I must though. I must.”


	8. Like Drinking Poison

### Chapter Eight: Like Drinking Poison

Staring through the bars of his cell at the window and the blue-gray sky beyond, Killian frowned. His thoughts on his daughter, how it felt to see her in her mother’s arms. The smile Emma had beamed down on their newborn was so filled with warmth and hope and love. It tore him apart not to be with them, smiling back the same smile. 

“Bloody hell.” He mumbled and lied down on the uncomfortable cell bed. Two days. That’s how long he’d been able to go home and stay with his family, revel in his new fatherhood. Two short days before news of his part in Gideon’s death spread through the town and the residents demanded his immediate imprisonment. 

The pained look on Emma’s face when David and Regina came to arrest him filled his thoughts each time he closed his eyes. It was an agonized one, filled also with betrayal and a readiness to fight. He’d seen it in Emma’s eyes - she would’ve resisted against the entire town, friends and family alike, to keep him with her. Just the day before they’d talked about leaving Storybrooke and travelling to any far off realm, far enough that most would not follow. Or relocating somewhere in the Land Without Magic, where it was less likely that Gold would venture after them. 

Seeing Emma’s stubborn determination and willingness to leave her family for him, strengthened Killian’s resolve to accept whatever punishment he’d incurred. He had zero desire to separate Emma from the rest of her family simply so he could avoid the consequences of his actions. Worse, if he absconded with Emma and their daughter - a beautiful blue-eyed cherub they’d yet to name - what sort of role model would that make him? How could he be the father he wanted to be if he was on the run? How would he be able to keep Emma or his daughter safe from Gold, who would certainly chase after them for revenge? 

Rather than risk an enraged Dark One hunting him and his family down, Killian surrendered quietly. Being imprisoned in Storybrooke’s jail for however long, was a much better option since his family would be safe. And, it wasn’t like he wouldn’t be able to see his daughter. For the past three days since his arrest, Emma had brought her to visit him daily. He treasured every second of those visits, even if each barely lasted two hours. He got to hold his daughter, coo and marvel at what a miracle she was. Even if he and Emma did bicker over what to name her. He wanted to name their daughter Alice after his mother, but Emma was leery of using that name. Or any name identical to a storybook character’s.

Killian thought about countering that with all the books and fairy tales that exist, no matter what they named their daughter there was always a chance it’d be the same as a character somewhere. But he decided not to, partly because he understood Emma’s concern of not wanting to unduly influence their daughter’s story, but also because he felt the name Alice didn’t suit the cherub in Emma’s arms. He hoped it would, but it didn’t feel right. 

The tapping of approaching footsteps drew his attention and he glanced towards the door, expectation lit in his eyes. It was around the time Emma usually visited, actually about forty minutes past, and he’d been getting more anxious each passing minute. 

All happy expectation fled from his face, replaced by enmity, as the door opened and he saw who his visitor was. 

“Crocodile.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Emma glared at Regina and the Blue Fairy, the two women having shown up at her doorstep moments before she was about to leave. In a rush and holding her sleeping daughter in her arms, diaper bag slung over her shoulder, Emma had told them to return back later. Some time after she visited Killian.

“That’s what we came to talk about.” Blue replied, glancing at Emma and the baby, flashing them a small, sad smile. “We don’t think you should visit so often.”

“Huh. Well, opinion noted, but there’s no rule saying I can’t visit everyday. So, if you don’t mind….” She started to push past them, while not trying to wake her baby.

“Emma.” Regina stopped the younger woman, grabbing her upper arm. “It’s not a request.”

“What?” Emma stared at Regina, shaking her head, an incredulous and irritated expression etched on her face. “I can visit my husband whenever I want during visiting hours, however often I want.”

“Actually, according to the town charter….”

“I know the rules and laws in the town charter concerning jail and visitation. I’m the damn sheriff! ‘Anyone over sixteen can visit any prisoner at anytime during visiting hours, provided the sheriff or a deputy is informed.’ I’m sheriff. I’m over sixteen. I’m visiting.” She tugged her arm away.

“But your baby isn’t.” Regina replied, standing up straight and steely - similar to how she acted when Emma had first arrived in town. Like the Evil Queen. Only the concern in her eyes contradicted that. “You can visit. She can’t.”

“No. I….” Emma scowled, her glare shifting from the Blue Fairy to Regina. “Those younger than sixteen can visit at the discretion of the sheriff. And I’m the sheriff.”

“You’re not. At least not for the time being.”

“What?!” Emma gaped, ready to yell at the two women, even push them out of her way. “You can’t fire me. It’s an elected post.”

“I’m not. And I’m not doing this because I want to.” Sighed Regina, grimacing at she thought about the reason she and Blue were there. “But it’s apparently in the town charter that not only can the sheriff not investigate their own immediate family members, they must be placed on leave during the investigation if the crime involved injury or death.”

Emma blinked, then made a scoffing sound, eyes lit with anger and realization. “Let me guess who it was who found that rule in the town charter.” Her voice rose, thinking about Gold and his meddling, but then dropped when her daughter woke up. Within seconds the sweet cherub started bawling, waving her tiny hands. “Shh. Shh. Sadie. Mommy’s here.”

Regina’s eyes softened seeing Emma soothing her baby, while beside her Blue held a similar expression. “You chose a name. Sadie. It’s beautiful. But I thought you and Hook were having trouble deciding on a name?”

“Yeah, we were.” Emma sighed, still smiling down at her daughter. “I asked Henry to picked a name from a list Killian and I made. I….” Her eyes teared up, thinking about her husband being behind bars and the reason why. “I was on my way to visit Killian, to tell him. Give him a chance to hold Sadie and say her name. I….” She took in a deep breath, her smile turning sad as Sadie’s eyes closed back into slumber. “I don’t care what Gold discovered in the town charter. He just wants to punish Killian, and that’s just….”

“‘Just’ what? Emma?” Regina crossed her arms, her empathy for the blonde shifting. “Don’t dare tell me you think Hook should get away with what he did. That he shouldn’t be punished.” Her jaw grew taut at the protest forming on Emma’s face. “If it’d been just an accident, I and everyone else in town would be on your side. But Hook was drunk. His decision to disregard his own and other’s safety, led to Gideon’s death. This isn’t something that can just be forgiven or swept under the rug.”

“But….”

“No. Because of Hook, there’s going to be a funeral for a two-year-old tomorrow. A….” Regina’s voice cracked, her thoughts on Zelena’s daughter Robin. Her niece was not much older than Gideon, and it drove home just how horrible the toddler’s death was. 

“And because of Gold we almost had to bury a newborn!” Emma retorted, her voice angry and loud. Her eyes filled with fiery loathing and pain. “Or did you forget that he attacked me and caused me to go into labor prematurely?! And it wasn’t just a reckless, latching out blindly because of grief. Gold knew what he was doing when he attacked me. He wanted me to lose my child!! He deliberately tried to kill my daughter!”

Regina closed her eyes, thinking about how to respond while Blue simply averted her gaze. “I know that. Which is why I refused to consider Gold’s first idea for who should be interim sheriff during your leave of absence.”

“Let me guess, he wanted it to be himself.” Emma gritted her teeth to refrain from shouting more. Sadie was already fussing again thanks to her angry outburst, but thankfully wasn’t bawling.

“He suggested it. But I would never let that happen.” Regina tensed thinking about the possibility of Gold becoming sheriff. It was an impossibility in her opinion, but considering the townsfolk now sympathized with Gold and Belle because of their tragic loss, if there were an election Gold could feasibly drum up support for himself to be temporary sheriff. “His second suggestion was better. Maleficent.”

“Maleficent?! But didn’t she decide to go to the Enchanted Forest with Lily and teach her about being a dragon?” Asked Emma, to which Regina nodded.

“I already sent her a message explaining things. She’s agreed to come.” Regina paused at the scowl Emma gave. “I trust her.”

“You trust Maleficent? What about her history with my parents?!”

“Nearly everyone in Storybrooke has some history with your parents.” Regina replied, crossing her arms and giving Emma a look. “Most of it is good. But that makes it more difficult to choose from among the townsfolk. The last thing we need is for someone to release Hook simply as a favor to your parents. Unless you want Gold to resume his revenge, putting everyone in danger.”

“Of course not! But….” 

“I trust Maleficent. Besides, her history with your parents and what she’s been through because of it, means neither Gold nor anyone else can accuse your family of favoritism towards Hook.” Regina paused, sensing the anger, frustration, and hurt building within Emma. “After Maleficent gets here in about a week, you can bring your daughter on your visits to see Hook. But for now, you….”

“No.” Emma bristled, her eyes glaring into Regina’s. “A week? I’m not waiting a fucking week. I’m going to bring Sadie to visit her father today.” With that she pushed past the two women, neither wanting to forcibly stop her while she held her baby. 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Killian glowered at Gold, who sported a sable suit and shoes. “Why the bloody hell are you here?”

Gold chuckled dryly, his brown eyes devoid of all emotion except cold loathing. His lips twitched as he noticed how on edge the pirate was from his presence. Killian’s apprehension seemed to increase each second that passed without a reply, something Gold savored. Chuckling again, he lingered by the sheriff’s desk, running his eyes and fingers along the array of files and papers and knicknacks.

“What are you doing here, crocodile?” Killian asked again, clenching a bar on the jail-cell door with his hand, and lamenting the decision to allow his hook to be taken away after being arrested. Not that he had much choice in that regard. “Gold….Rumplestiltskin!” The pirate growled, calling out each of Gold’s monikers to try to trigger some response. “Dark One! What the bloody hell….If you’re here to kill me, now’s your chance.”

“Heh. Heh.” Gold sat down in the sheriff’s desk chair, leering at Killian in his jail cell. “Tempting as that is, I’m here for a different reason. Think of me as...the warden. Here to supervise visits and make sure your punishment is a punishment.”

“...you’re going to physically hurt me?” Killian tensed, fearful of being tortured by Gold, but also hoping that was the man’s plan. Or if it wasn’t, then at least he hoped Gold didn’t plan to hurt Emma or their daughter when they visited. 

“Why should I expend the effort, when I can just sit here and supervise whenever your family visits?” Gold sneered, delighting in the confusion in Killian’s face and then dawning realization. “Unless you’re the callous sort who’d bask in the happiness of a visit from your wife and daughter even as the man whose son you basically murdered observes, I assume you’ll be very uncomfortable.”

Killian grimaced, already feeling uncomfortable; dread and guilt gnawing at his stomach. Gaze dropping to the space of floor just outside his cell, Killian thought about how happy seeing Emma and their daughter made him, then he thought about Gideon. The poor toddler was dead because of him. And each time he saw his daughter and smiled at her, Killian had to fight against the guilt threatening to overshadow even that bit of happiness. “....Rumplestiltskin, I’m sorry. I really am. I….” He fell silent, thinking about all he wanted to say and how cliche it all sounded. That he’d change things if he could. Make a different choice that night. Do anything to undo the toddler’s death. “I’m sorry.”

The quivering intake of breath from across the room drew Killian’s gaze back up. His brow knitted as he noticed Gold, who had covered his face with his hand. The other man’s eyes were so downcast they looked closed, and his lips quivered almost imperceptibly. It was the picture of a man mourning, but struggling not to show it. 

The purpose of Gold’s entirely black attire suddenly dawned on Killian. 

“I...was it today? The funeral?” Killian asked, his stomach twisting and chest feeling like a thousand pounds were pressing on it. 

“No…..to...tomorrow. Tonight’s the...the wake.” Gold replied, stumbling over the words as he drowned under the sudden wave of grief. Since that morning - the first time he left his house since Gideon died - he’d been approached by the townsfolk offering sympathy. Everyone, even those most terrified of him from either experience or reputation, approached him and offered their condolences. Asking about the funeral and how Belle was holding up, if they needed anything, etc. It all overwhelmed him; the sympathy from the townsfolk was much more profound and extensive than when he buried Baelfire. 

“....I am sorry. I’m so sorry. If there was any way to undo what I did, I’d….” Killian blurted, not caring about how cliche it sounded, or how self-serving. He flinched when Gold’s eyes shot wide open, the latter seeming to only then recall who he was speaking with. The anger in the grieving man’s eyes was fiercer than Killian had ever witnessed before.

“Not another word.” Gold spat, a distinctive and anger-laced pause between each word. He snarled at the pirate, his hand poised to either point at Killian or magically snap his neck. “Unless you want me to take you up on that offer.”

Killian shut up and averted his gaze back to the floor, fearful of the possibility but also willing to make a deal. If it were possible to redo that night, make a different choice, or to undo the terrible consequence of his actions, he’d give nearly anything. But magic couldn’t bring back the dead, and time-travel was almost as impossible and dangerous. 

“Thought not.” Gold spat, taking Killian’s silence as confirmation that the pirate’s remorse-fueled spiel was simply empty words. The sort of useless refrain people threw out after making stupid decisions with terrible, horrible outcomes. Meaningless, except to make the mutterer feel better. “Now, dearie, le….”

The Dark One’s words were interrupted by Emma entering the room, carrying Sadie in her arms. The cute cherub was fussing, her mewls presently quiet but Gold sensed she was on the verge of bawling.

“Shh. It’s okay. We’re going to see daddy soon.” Emma cooed at Sadie, her attention fixated on her baby. It wasn’t until she heard the chair at the sheriff’s desk move that she glanced up. Her eyes widened and she hugged Sadie closer to her. “Gold! What are you doing….” She quickly glanced at the cells, holding her breath until she saw Killian, alive and unharmed. “...here?”

“What’s the matter with you….can’t you tell she’s hungry?!” Gold growled, his full attention on Sadie. Fueled by his experience as a stay-at-home, hands-on father, he approached mother and daughter, summoning a bottle of milk from Emma’s bag for the baby. He magically heated it to the right temperature and started feeding Sadie before he realized what he was doing. When he did realize, he quickly let go of the bottle and drew back, an unfathomable expression of anguish and shock on his face.

“...Gold?” Emma bit her lip, at first wary and alarmed by the man’s approach - only the suddenness of the action and surprising gentleness in Gold’s face had stopped her from pulling away immediately. The despondency she saw in those eyes cut into her heart, she didn’t even need her superpower to tell that Gold’s reaction was honest and not a scheme. 

“....Crocodile?” Killian leered cautiously at the scene, having bristled when the Dark One had suddenly approached Emma and their daughter. He couldn’t see the grief in Gold’s eyes from his current angle, but he noticed his wife’s. Emma wasn’t afraid, but rather concerned for the other man. 

“I….” Gold backed another step, an emotional, mental battle being waged within him. His grief and his paternal desire to take care of a child to assuage it, battled with his anger and hatred. His lust for revenge suddenly at odds with a desire to latch onto Sadie, to take care of her in lieu of his own child. “I can’t….I can’t stay here.” He mumbled, confusing Emma and Killian, before teleporting away in a cloud of magic.


	9. Grief

### Chapter Nine: Grief

Henry Mills sighed, staring out at the pier and the ships. The salty air billowing in from the ocean and the shrieking of the seagulls distracted him, pulled him away from the dark cloud descending on the town. It was peaceful on the docks, staring out at the horizon and away from most of the townsfolk. Five days had passed since he returned to Storybrooke and he was still trying to make sense of his young uncle's death.

Until getting his mom's call, he'd never thought something as mundane as a fatal car crash would or could happen in Storybrooke. Nothing that'd happened in the town through the years, especially occurrences with fatal outcomes, had been accidental. There'd always been something deeper at play, be it fate or someone's scheme or anything else. But an accident?

"If only I was here that night. I could've used my Author powers to stop Killian driving or driven myself…." Henry muttered as he stared out at the ocean, thinking about his enchanted quill and the storybook. Despite enjoying being the Author and knowing the rules he had to follow to keep his power, if breaking them could change things he'd gladly do so.

Shaking his head and releasing a long-held back sigh, he turned to head back into town.

"Caw! Caw!"

He jumped back as a large, black feathered bird flew right in front of him; the thing nearly diving right at him only to perch itself on the dock in front of him. Henry blinked, the ebony bird staring up at him and cawing whenever he tried to move past.

Grimacing after being blocked by the bird, Henry knelt before it, a suspicion rising within him. Tentative, he reached out towards its head, wondering if it was tamed or magic or just a strange wild fowl.

"Caw! Caw!" The raven shrieked, expanding its wings and pecking at Henry's hand. When the nineteen year old flinched, jostled by the attack, the creature pecked at Henry's jacket pocket. It pecked hard and fierce enough to rip a hole, spilling out coins and a keychain. It quickly picked up the keychain before Henry could do more than tumble back and blink.

"What the…?" Henry stared after the raven, watching as it flew towards a car parked nearby; his eyebrows rose when the bird perched on the hood and peered back at him. The next moment the creature dropped the keys on the car hood and flew away, cawing loudly. Glancing towards where the bird went, Henry furrowed his brow, deep in thought.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Thick curtains pulled shut over the windows, not a sliver of light peeking through the dark and heavy fabric; the room itself lit only by a dim electric lamp, the kind with a dial to adjust the amount of illumination. It was currently on its lowest setting, just above complete darkness, barely enough to justify being on.

Belle sniffled, lying curled up on the bed, her chestnut tresses tangled and oily from not washing or brushing them. Clothed in wrinkled nightgown and a drab house robe, both of which she'd worn for the past few days, Belle lied there in the quiet. Her thin arms were wrapped about a small, plush dragon - a gift Gideon had received for his first birthday; its royal blue hue much darker beneath the dim lighting.

"Belle?" Maurice entered the room cautiously, carrying a silver tray with a light broth soup, a few slices of bakery bread and a glass of water. His chest tightened seeing his daughter still in bed, curled into a ball, and clinging to one of Gideon's favorite toys. "I made some soup. And I got some of that bakery bread you like."

Belle simply clung tighter to the dragon plush, shutting her eyes and squeezing out a slew of silent tears.

"Belle, you need to eat." Maurice brought the tray over and placed it on the right-side night stand. His eyes teared up seeing his daughter shake her head, refusing to look at the food or him. He sat down on the edge of the bed. His throat burned with unshed tears, his voice shaky and hoarse. "Belle. Please."

"...I'm not hungry." She mumbled after a few moments, her soft voice nearly inaudible. Her father's face brightened slightly, surprised by her mumble - it was the first time she'd spoken in four days. Four and a half days technically, but Maurice didn't count her talking that first morning after Gideon died.

Belle at awakened that first morning, actually afternoon, her normal self, vibrant and with a kind smile. Maurice had been confused at first, wondering if she was trying to be strong for him or Gold. It wasn't until she asked a question about where Gideon was that Maurice realized that Belle had blocked out her son's death. It shocked him, and he could only sit there numb, unable to form the words to tell her.

He didn't even get the chance to tell her gently, as Gold had overheard her question. The expression on his son-in-law's face was excruciating, filled with anger, shock, betrayal. Before Maurice could stop Gold, the older man had started shouting at Belle. Shouting about what happened to Gideon and that he couldn't believe she'd forget. He also mentioned something about what she did the previous night, about him almost losing her as well.

The tirade was enough to break through the block, and Belle had collapsed horrified. She'd refused to eat or speak since.

"Belle…." Maurice reached out to his daughter, brushing some strands of hair from her face and pushing them behind her ear. "Darling, you need to eat. I made you some soup. The kind your mom used to make for you whenever you got sick as a child. Remember?" He smiled wistfully at his daughter's pale and puffy face. "You would refuse anything the castle chef cooked whenever you were ill, so Collette would boil up a light broth for you. I'm sure mine is not as good as your mother's was, but…." He tapered off when Belle simply turned away from him and the soup, her arms still clasped around the dragon plush. A small, sad smile on his face, he sighed and kissed her forehead. "I'll leave it here on the nightstand. You can eat whenever you feel up to it." He paused and patted her shoulder reassuringly. "I'll be downstairs if you need me….I love you, Belle. I wish there was something I could do...if I could do or give anything to bring Gideon back, I wouldn't hesitate for a second."

With that, and still no response from Belle, he left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. After it shut he leaned against it and closed his eyes, mumbling a prayer to his deceased wife to help and watch over their daughter.

The low creaking of one of the floorboards down the hall drew his attention and he frowned, eyes still shut. "Are you going to actually help me get Belle to eat? Or are you just going to go spin away in the basement? Well, Rumplestiltskin?" Maurice grumbled, opening his eyes and throwing a scathing look in the direction of the creaking floorboards. He froze.

"Interesting." A gruff voice muttered through thin lips, its owner's reddish eyes locking on Maurice and lighting up at the way all the blood drained the latter's face. The crimson eyed assassin leered at the king-turned-florist, smirking at the other's mistake. "You automatically assumed I had to be your beast of a son-in-law."

"...What are you doing here?!" Maurice's heart thumped loudly beneath his ribcage, his palms sweaty and voice shaky. Hearing the creaking floorboard, he had assumed his son-in-law had returned home - it never occurred to him that anyone else would loiter inside the Dark One's house. Especially not the Nemesis assassins' messenger.

The assassin grinned. "To make sure the blood price was properly collected. And in full."

"What?" Maurice bristled, his eyes widened in terror. "What do you mean - ? Properly collected? Haven't you caused enough…you already killed my...my…." Maurice's throat ran dry and he choked when he tried to say 'my grandson.'

The assassin chuckled. "That only paid part of the blood price. His mother was supposed to be the other part." He sneered, his red eyes catching every nerve twitch and muscle spasm in Maurice's face. Fear, horror, protectiveness - various emotions flashed in Maurice's eyes, intriguing the scarlet eyed man. "You didn't think one death was enough to satisfy the blood price, did you?"

"You bastard son of a bitch." Maurice growled and lunged at the assassin, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. "Don't you dare harm my daughter!"

"Or you'll what? Kill me? I dare you to try." The red-eyed man leered at Maurice. "Or are you going to inform the townsfolk? Get the sheriff to arrest me? You could. But do you really want to risk your son-in-law and daughter finding out you're the reason their son's dead?"

"It's not...You killed him! You! For your blood price…."

"Technically, that was done by a fellow Nemesis assassin with a penchant for 'accidents.' Long gone from Storybrooke by now." His eyes narrowed to slits and he grabbed Maurice's hand, wrenching it from his shirt collar.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The room was brightly lit, its stark white walls intensifying the illumination from the sconces, and spreading a bright but solemn glow throughout the room. A cold undercurrent seemed to spread through as well, partly from the air conditioning but mostly from the coffin laid on a table in the center of the room. It was a small coffin; impeccably handcrafted with care.

Gold stood in front of it, his downcast eyes brimming with tears. His lips quivered; his hand trembled as he touched its polished surface and thought about his son lying inside it. It was surreal. Gideon's second birthday had just past a couple months back; that day had been such a happy one, filled with balloons, cake, presents, family. The exuberant two-year-old had been ecstatic that day, overwhelmed and spoiled by the attention and gifts. For a fortnight afterwards, Gideon had pleaded for another party and incessantly asked how long it was until his next birthday when told he had to wait until then.

His next birthday….

"Gideon….I…." Gold choked back a sob, averting his gaze when simply closing them failed to stave off his grief. He glanced at the ceiling, then the wall, trying with all his willpower not to break down and open the coffin.

Seeing the coffin and knowing his young son was in it was painful enough - but actually seeing Gideon in it would be worse. Much more excruciating. Especially with the amount of damage done to the toddler's body from the crash.

"I...I'm sorry. There's not going to be anymore birthday parties…." Gold faltered, his voice breaking. It likely seemed weird, talking about birthday parties, but Gideon had been excited about his next party since the moment his second ended. And Gold had promised Gideon that his next party would be much more fun, with more presents and sweets. "I….I'm sure your brother will look after you, play games with you like tag or hide and seek. Bae always loved those sorts of games. He's much older than you, but I'm sure he'd love having his little brother around. He always wanted a sibling." Gold paused, allowing a few tears to slip from his eyes while he thought about Baelfire as a young boy.

His firstborn had always wanted to be a big brother, to have someone to play games with at home and in the village. And though Baelfire had stopped asking about getting a little brother or sister after Milah left them, Gold knew his firstborn still wanted a sibling. Especially after he became the Dark One. Though that stemmed more from Baelfire wanting to be able to play with other children without risking his father seriously hurting them whenever Baelfire got injured playing.

Gold exhaled a shaky breath, remembering a few times where he'd killed or maimed those who hurt Baelfire; back then he had no qualms about killing anyone who hurt his son - even accidentally during play. Even another child. He was certain, however, he never actually killed another child for injuring Baelfire, just seriously hurt them or scared them senseless. Their parents he'd kill without compunction, but anyone younger than Baelfire he held himself back from killing. Children older than Baelfire though….

 _'It...it couldn't be because….'_ Gold's stomach twisted as he considered the possibility that perhaps his actions back then, his trigger-happy nature against anyone who hurt Baelfire, even children, was why Gideon…. The price of magic, the consequences of actions taken or not-taken, karma - he lived long enough to know that they sometimes were paid in ways one never expected. _'No. I don't...I won't believe Gideon would have to pay the price for my past deeds. Nor that he'd be the cost….no. Just no.'_

Gold shook his head, shaking the thought away and focusing on where he was and why. The wake was hours away, and it was to be family only while the funeral and burial would be open to any of the townsfolk. A tradition Maurice had said, insisting on it when Gold expressed irritation at having an open funeral. He wanted it all to be family only - blood family only. Him, Belle, Maurice, and perhaps Henry. No one else.

Maurice though insisted otherwise, claiming that the death of a young child affected communities more profoundly than other deaths. All of Storybrooke should be invited to grieve Gideon's death at the funeral. Gold was tempted to strangle his father-in-law to solve their dispute, but didn't because it would devastate Belle worse. Plus, Maurice assured Gold that Emma would be barred from attending. Killian was locked up, so he wouldn't be able to attend anyways.

Of course if that pirate had the audacity to attend the funeral, Gold would crush his heart without qualm. Having the man responsible for his son's death be at the funeral - Gold had growled he didn't care what the consequence would be, he wouldn't allow it. He would gladly destroy the town itself to avoid such affront.

 _"U...un...unders...understandable."_ Maurice had stammered, white as a ghost, after hearing Gold's threat. A reaction that assured Gold that the younger man wouldn't dare break his word. Though, it was a bit more extreme of a fear reaction than he expected from his father-in-law.

"Why am I thinking about such trivial things?" Gold muttered, refocusing his attention back to his son. He patted his boy's coffin, lingering over its meticulously crafted and polished edges. Taking a few steadying breaths, he opened the coffin lid and his eyes immediately refilled with tears seeing his son lying there. "Gideon…."

He stared at his son, tears slipping copiously from his eyes; his heart twisted seeing Gideon lying so still, so composed, and, thankfully, a lot less 'crushed' than at the hospital. The town's undertaker was more talented than he assumed, since Gold didn't sense any magic having been used to fix up his son's face.

"Gideon…." Gold's lips trembled as he gazed down at his son, it almost looked like he was merely sleeping. Enough that he wondered 'what if,' and kissed Gideon's forehead, though he wasn't surprised when nothing happened. Death wasn't a sleeping curse. "I'm sorry, son. I'm sorry I failed to protect you. I'm sorry I wasn't there during the crash - you must've been scared and in pain. And hoping papa and mama would come get you, to reassure you and make the pain go away. I...I..." Gold faltered, his voice quivering and punctured with brief sobs that sounded like gasps. "I love you, son. I miss you. I…." He swallowed, and glanced away for a few seconds, staring at the floor. "I...I can't stay. There are things I….I want to...have to do, and I need to leave Storybrooke to do them. But I promise I'll come back. I promise I'll get revenge for you. For all the years you'll miss out on. For all the birthdays, hugs, and…." Gold's knees gave out and he dropped to the floor; unable to hold back his tears nor his choking sobs. He cried alone, wanting to holler in pain but settled for sobbing through clenched teeth and biting fiercely at his lips.


	10. Revelations

### Chapter Ten: Revelations

"...this can't be right…." David mumbled, rubbing his chin as he peered closely at the car Killian crashed. His eyebrows furrowed and he frowned, circling the vehicle. Kneeling beside the car's back passenger seat, where Gideon had been during the crash, David touched the scratched and mangled door. Holding his breath, he glanced at the report filed by the town mechanic, reading its description of the damage. "...how did we miss this?"

"I'm right, aren't I? There's something more to this than just an accident." Henry piped up, standing a few feet from his maternal grandfather. Shortly after his encounter with the strange raven, he'd gone to check on his stepfather's car, to see if his suspicion was correct. It took only a glance for him to feel something was wrong about its state, and thus he called David.

"Well, I wouldn't necessarily say that." David traced a finger over one of the scratches, drawing it away midway with a sharp intake of breath. A tiny bead of blood formed on his fingertip, a rich red dot on the white digit. Narrowing his eyes, he took out a small pocket knife and returned to the scratch.

"Grandpa?" Henry leaned over David's kneeling form, trying to see what had caught the older man's attention. He blinked when David wrenched a tiny piece of something from the car door. "What's that?"

"It's a piece of glass from a headlight." David shook his head and clenched his jaw, a deep frown on his face. He glanced from the tiny shard back to the car door - it wasn't as noticeably from a distance, but there were paint flakes in the scratches not matching the hue of the car. "I can't believe I didn't see it before…." He grimaced and stood up, mulling over the evidence. "Henry, call Regina and tell her to come over here, asap." He headed to the first aid kit for a bandage for his finger. "Tell her Killian may not be as responsible for the crash as we thought. There was another car involved that night."

David took a few steps back, studying the impact site carefully while Henry did as told. His leery gaze shifted as he studied the indentation, growing bewildered and then livid.

"It looks like the other car rammed straight into Killian's. It wasn't that dark, the other driver had to have seen Gideon in the car seat." David muttered, within earshot of Henry who had just dialed Regina and was waiting, phone to ear, for her to pick up. "What sort of person just drives off after an accident like that?"

Henry froze in shock and horror listening to David, his memory of the rest stop gas station flashing before him: The car with its wrecked headlight, the hooded driver muttering about a 'blood price' to someone over the phone, and the strange feeling seeing both had given him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Sadie?" Killian asked softly, holding his and Emma's daughter in his arms. The tiny cherub had finally fallen back asleep, well-fed and warm and loved.

"Henry picked it out." Emma replied, sitting on the jail-cell bed next to her husband and smiling at him. Leaning her head on his shoulder, she sighed and gazed down at their daughter asleep in Killian's arms. "Said that it just jumped out at him."

"It's a beautiful name, luv." Killian whispered, savoring the moment. It was the first time in three days that he got to hold his daughter and he wanted to bask in the joy of it. "Fits her perfectly. Sadie Swan."

"Sadie Jones." Emma corrected, lifting her head from Killian's shoulder to peer into his eyes. "She's our daughter, so she gets your last name. I might even start using it, officially." She grinned, saying the second part using a lighthearted tone and chuckle in attempt to chase away the dark cloud she could see forming in her husband's eyes. "After all, we're married, so it's about time I switched…."

"...aye, we are." Killian returned the smile, but one much weaker and unsure than Emma's. He glanced at her and then back at their little girl, his gaze wistful. His eyes moistened, blurring his vision.

"Killian?"

"...Sadie should take your last name, luv." Killian insisted, clearing his throat and averting his gaze from Emma's inquisitive one. "Better she take the Savior's last name than that of drunk driving pirate who killed a two-year-old."

"Killian…." Emma's lips trembled, her eyes blurred with tears. She wanted so much to reassure her husband, to tell him the accident wasn't his fault. But every time she tried, she thought about Henry and Sadie, about what if one of them had been hurt by a drunk driver and how she'd feel if someone said to the driver it wasn't their fault.

"...I keep going over it in my head. Every night, every morning in this cell, I've wondered why. Why did I drive that night? I could've called someone to drive me or teleport me to the hospital after I got the call that you'd collapsed." He shook his head, staring through the bars of the neighboring cell towards its wall. "Hell, I could've bloody called the crocodile and said something came up and I couldn't watch Gideon…." Killian paused, a headache creeping into his temples and forehead. "Fuck. It would've been so fucking better if I'd just interrupted their bloody dinner date. They'd have picked up Gideon and I'd have been the only one in that bloody car."

"Killian." Emma touched her husband's shoulder, her voice quiet and her eyes searching her husband's. Part of her wanted to allow Killian to vent, but Sadie was sleeping so peacefully, she was loathed to let anything wake her. "Sadie…."

"I know, luv." Killian mumbled, clenching his teeth and grimacing as he realized how loud he'd gotten. Glancing down at his daughter to make sure she was still asleep, Killian sighed and continued, his voice much lower. "I just keep going over that night in my head, trying to figure out what I was thinking. I…."

"...Yeah. Me too." Muttered Emma, tired and with a bitter tinge to her voice. Her eyes narrowed as she thought about a question that had bothered her since that night. "I...Killian, why were you drinking that night? You were watching Gideon, why did you get drunk?"

"...I don't know." He replied after a few moments, gaze averted in thought.

"Killian…." Emma's voice rose slightly, a sharpness to it warning her husband not to reply with anything but the truth.

"I don't know. Honest." Killian reiterate. "I barely remember anything from that night. I remember getting the call about you, but everything else before the crash is a blur." There was a pause, lasting only seconds but it felt much longer. "...same thing with the crash."

"With the crash? You're saying you were drunk enough to black out?" Emma tensed, glowering at her husband. Despite it being no secret that Killian had been drunk the night of the accident, Emma felt shocked at the thought that he'd been drunk enough to black out.

Killian thought a moment, then shook his head. "No. If I'd been that drunk, I'd have passed out or not have remembered how to turn on the bloody car or left…." He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, silently wishing that he had been drunker that night. If he had been, he'd likely have forgotten Gideon and left him at home alone. It would've been a smidge less responsible than driving drunk, but at least the toddler would likely still be alive. "I wish I'd been that plastered...I'd have left Gideon at the house and he wouldn't've been in the bloody car."

"...Killian…." Emma trailed off, letting the pirate's words sink in. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, the room blanketed with quiet - punctured only by their breathing and the ticking of the wall clock. Then, as the silence lulled them into its comforting grip, it was rent through by the phone on the sheriff's desk ringing. Its bleating woke Sadie, the five-day-old crying loudly and flailing in Killian's arms. "For the love of…." Emma glowered at the phone, muttering swears under her breath. Glancing briefly at her husband and daughter, she went to answer it while Killian attempted to comfort Sadie. "Sheriff's station, how may I….oh, Tigerlily, is something….what?" She paused, her eyes widening as she listened to her caller. "Did he hurt anyone? Oh. All right, well, there's not much that can...Um? Okay. I'll see what I can do."

Humming a soft lullaby to quiet Sadie, Killian rocked his daughter in his arms, while listening to his wife's conversation. Hearing the click of the phone being placed back in its cradle, he spoke. "...I take it that something's happened. What? Is it something dangerous?"

"No, well...no. Not dangerous. I'm not sure it's illegal either." She sighed and returned to her husband and child. "Gold...apparently took Gideon from the funeral hall, muttering that he'll take care of things himself or something like that - Tigerlily didn't catch everything Gold said, and the funeral director was knocked unconscious."

"Blimey." Killian muttered, his surprised accented with a heavy intake of breath followed by an equally heavy sigh. Still rocking Sadie in his arms, the five-day-old quiet once more but not yet asleep, Killian peered up at Emma - more alarmed by the expression she wore than anything she'd said. "Emma? What is it? Did someone get hurt?"

Emma shook her head, her chest tightening as she stared at Killian through the jail-cell's metal bars; her eyes focused on Sadie cradled in his arms. Their beautiful, innocent daughter gazed around with her wide, blue eyes; her arms flailing and reaching out until the movement drew Killian's attention back to her. The pirate smiled lovingly down at Sadie in his arms and gently rocked her back to sleep.

"Killian…." Emma approached, watching her husband with their daughter - the sight made her smile, her heart brimming with happiness. Until her eyes strayed to the bars of the jail cell and a thought caused her heart to twinge: how would growing up with her father in jail affect Sadie? Depending on how long he was sentenced, Sadie could be an adult before Killian was free.

"Luv? What is it?" Killian asked, catching the look on Emma's face.

"Let's run away. You, me, and Sadie." Replied Emma, standing in the cell's threshold with her arms crossed and a determined gleam in her eyes.

"What?"

"We can cross the townline, settle down somewhere out there where there's no magic. That way, if Gold does come after us, he won't have a magical advantage."

"Emma…." Killian frowned, pain and longing in his eyes. He shook his head.

"We can leave and raise our daughter together, as a family. Just like we talked about since I discovered I was pregnant." Emma insisted, starting to pace in front of her husband and daughter. "Don't say you haven't thought about it."

"I'd be lying if I said I haven't thought about absconding with you and Sadie." Killian took a deep, slow breath, his heart pounding from the idea of escape. His pirate instinct craved freedom, yearned for it from the marrow of his bones, but as he glanced down at Sadie, a much stronger instinct eclipsed his pirate one. "If we leave Storybrooke without me paying the price for my mistake, the Crocodile will stop at nothing to hunt me down. Not just to kill me but to hurt me like he's currently hurting." Killian paused and grabbed Emma's hand with his own, pulling her closer while he cradled Sadie carefully using his hook-side arm. "I cannot - will not - risk putting our daughter in danger, just to avoid a stint in jail. Would you?"

"Of course not!" Emma snapped, neither her answer nor tone surprising Killian.

"Then why bring up the idea to abscond from Storybrooke? What's bothering you, luv? Because it doesn't matter how many bloody years I'm locked up, I'll always love you and once I'm out, we'll be together again, as a family."

"I know, I…." Emma swallowed, gazing down at Sadie sleeping cradled in Killian's arm. "I'm...I'm terrified at the thought of raising Sadie while you are in jail. I'm terrified how knowing her father is in jail and can't be around will affect Sadie. I…." Emma's lip trembled and her eyes teared up, while her chest tightened as did her throat. Killian simply squeezed her hand comfortingly and listened. "Growing up, I met other kids whose parents were in prison. A few had even visited their parents in prison, and…." She wiped her eyes and steadied herself, painful memories of her childhood resurfacing. Memories of the kids who were in the system because their parents got arrested and no relatives would take them in - as a child she'd thought they were lucky since they knew their parents and only had to wait until their parents were released from prison. "I think about Sadie growing up while you're in jail and I remember how devastated those kids were. I….I can't…."

Killian squeezed Emma's hand more firmly and then kissed her fingers. "Emma, you, your parents, and Henry will make sure Sadie grows up loved and happy. And whenever she misses me, I'm sure no one will begrudge her a visit." He smiled up at his wife, only to falter when she averted her gaze. His breath caught in his throat. "...Unless what you're actually worried about is how seeing me behind bars will affect Sadie."

"Killian, I…."

"...And that you're considering no longer bringing her to visit me." The pirate scowled and let go of his wife's hand, his eyes narrowed and downcast. He shook his head and refused to allow Emma to grab hold of his hand. Instead he focused on the slumbering cherub in his arms.

Emma sat next to her husband, only briefly considering following up on Tigerlily's call about Gold. She couldn't care less what the grieving man did as long as no one was hurt and he kept his promise to not hurt her or her family. "Killian, I'm not going to stop bringing Sadie on visits. I just don't think I should bring her on every visit."

"...right." Killian mumbled, but otherwise ignored his wife and her efforts to explain. Until she reached over to take Sadie away. He bristled and scowled, his eyes narrowed and moist. Before either of them could say anything, Emma's cell phone buzzed, having been placed into vibration mode much earlier, after Sadie had fallen asleep the first time, upon getting her fill of formula.

Emma frowned at the interruption but answered the phone, the display showing David's number.

"Dad, hi. If you're calling to ask if I'm still coming over today, I am, I just…." There was a long pause as David interrupted her and she listened, annoyed at first. It swiftly shifted to confusion, then surprise. "...what? What are you talking about? What other…." Her eyes widened, shifting towards Killian briefly as her father's words sunk in. Her heart racing. "I'm still at the station, I….yeah." She nodded, listening to her father, the conversation continuing only a few moments longer.

"What is it, luv? What did your father say?" Asked Killian after Emma put her phone away, a curious expression on her face. "Emma?"

"...there was another car. The accident…." Emma took a deep breath, her brain reeling from what David had discovered. Her eyes met Killian's. "It wasn't a single car collision - there was another car involved. One that crashed into yours."


	11. Confessions

### Chapter Eleven: Confessions

_-Morning Of The Accident-_

_A few of her soft, chestnut curls fell into her face, refusing to stay behind her ears or in the loose bun she'd fastened with a hair clip. Belle bit her lip in thought, staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her furrowed brow deepened. The sounds of feet pattering on the hardwood floors and giggling drifted in from the hallway. She raised an eyebrow and stared askance out the slightly opened bathroom door._

_"Having trouble getting Gideon dressed, Rumple?" She called out to her husband, partly teasing, partly serious._

_"I'm fine." Came Rumple's reply, accompanied by Gideon giggling and pattering quickly down the corridor. Morning dressing time had recently became a game for Gideon, the two-year-old found it hilarious to run away from whichever of his parents attempted to dress him. Today was Rumple's turn._

_"Remember, no magic. It's cheating." Belle called out playfully, grinning ear to ear as she pictured her husband's grimace. She chuckled quietly when Gideon chirped 'magic cheatin' and laughed, while Rumple grumbled. Though she knew she shouldn't encourage Gideon's misbehavior, it had become as much a game for Rumple and her as for Gideon. A competitive one, in which she was in the lead._

_"...ther….uc…." Rumple muttered, his words muffled by distance and the bathroom door. There was a pause, followed by Gideon giggling and saying something Belle couldn't make out. Her eyebrows shot up after her husband hissed out: "Shit!"_

_"Rumple! Language!" Belle scowled, her jovial grin vanishing as she thought about Gideon learning swear words._

_"Uh...yes, I…Um…." Rumple stammered, muttering an apology for swearing around Gideon and reassuring Belle that he'd teach the toddler to not say that word._

_Belle simply shook her head and sighed, understanding the difficulty of stopping a toddler from using a swear word once learned from having talked with a few of the other mothers in Storybrooke. Her gaze returned to the medicine cabinet mirror, her reflection once more showing a thoughtful expression; which spread into a soft smile as she glanced down at her hands holding an unopened pregnancy test._

~~

"...if you dare lay a hand on her, I'll…."

Belle blinked, brought out of her thoughts by her father's alarmed voice. At first she thought he was at the foot of the bed, based on the volume of his voice, but she quickly surmised he was just outside the bedroom door. The dragon plush lay on the floor, having dropped from her arms as she sat up. Her eyes slowly drifted from it to the bowl of soup cooling on the nightstand.

"Threats? Really?" A stranger's voice answered her father's, its tone causing Belle's skin to crawl. Her gut twisted and roiling, her breath caught in her throat. And though she wanted to ignore him, her brain clung to his every word. "Well, how do you think that daughter of yours will react learning that her son's dead because her father hired Nemesis to kill her husband?"

"...I canceled that hit years ago! Before the curse!" Maurice's voice rose, angry and tinged with fear. "And I fucking paid you despite you blundering it! Claiming I owe a blood price…." He growled, and Belle listened as someone was slammed against the wall, her cheeks drained of color. "...you should've killed me, not my grandson!"

Having approached the door without being fully aware of leaving the bed, Belle flung open the bedroom door. Her eyes, red-rimmed from grief, widened at the sight of her father holding another man against the wall. His arm pressed tightly against the other's throat. "...father?"

"Belle?!" Maurice turned to his daughter, his hold on the assassin weakening. His heart raced, ecstatic seeing his daughter up and about rather than curled up in bed, but at the same time his stomach clenched. Just how long had Belle been at the door? How much had she overheard?

"...what's going on?" Belle observed the scene warily, her bright blue eyes lit with alarm and her chin scrunched up in worry. The whole of her face carried a perplexed mix of dread, worry, and horror, a tumult of emotion that made its way in her careful tread towards her father. "Father?"

"I got this handled, Belle, just a foolish trespasser who'll be leaving soon." Maurice answered, indicating the red-eyed man he held against the wall. Turning to glare at the assassin, a threat on his lips, Maurice bristled in fear at the man's expression. The red-eyed man smiled a smug, triumphant smile; one aimed at Maurice though his gaze was pointed towards Belle.

"No. Tell me the truth." Belle demanded, her face pale and eyes livid. Her brain reeling over every bit of conversation she'd overheard. She tensed and glared at both men when Maurice backed off the red-eyed man to approach Belle, wanting to alleviate his daughter's distress.

"Seems your lovely daughter overheard our tête-à-tête just now." The assassin grinned, his eyes burning a fierce red as he feigned shock. It was such a horrid performance that it was obvious to Maurice that the other man must've known Belle was awake and close enough to overhear. "Sorry, not used to such thin walls. I would've kept my voice down." The assassin smirked, leering at Maurice while dusting off the faded motley shirt he wore, its once vibrant hues now nothing more than colorless swathes of gray.

"Shut up." Belle hissed at the red-eyed man, before glaring from him to her father. Her heart throbbed and quickened, her gut twisting into knots - her brain already done analyzing what she'd overheard and its meaning, though no part of her wished to believe it to be true. "Father, what were you saying about a 'hit' and a…'blood price'?"

"It's...nothing. Just lie down and relax...I'll…." Maurice took a step towards his daughter, reaching out his arms to embrace her; his mind racing to find some way to make Belle forget. It would be less painful and much easier than explaining the truth to her.

"No!" Belle backed away from her father, her chest heaving. "If you love me, father, tell me the truth. Is what this...man here….said, true? Before I interrupted, he claimed that Gideon…." Belle faltered a moment, her lips trembling. "...my son is dead because of you? I….how? What…." She sucked in her bottom lip, biting on it harshly; her eyes pools of pain and grief and pleading. Confusion as well. "...father?"

"Belle, I...I'm…no." Maurice tensed, standing up straight. He scowled scathingly at the assassin. "I'm not at fault. This vile man and his brethren are. They claim I owed them a blood price, but…it's nonsense."

"Nonsense?" The assassin scoffed, amused by the other man's lie. He had nothing against clients who lied outright or twisted the truth about the hits they ordered when cornered, they were after all just covering their asses. But he never heard a client - a marked client like Maurice - claim the blood price to be nonsense. "I guess you hiring the Nemesis faction to hunt down the beast who took your daughter was just nonsense too? Hm?" The red-eyed man leered at Maurice, his tone chilling. "Perhaps a blood price was too lenient a punishment. If it was all a joke…."

Maurice bristled, chills running down his spine. His heart pounded with fear, recalling the small bit the assassin showed of his true power back in the Enchanted Forest. It was a power that chilled him and made his stomach turn in horror.

Belle watched quietly as her father flinched and backed away from the red-eyed man, her eyes not missing the shaking of her father's head nor the trembling of his hands. Nor had her ears missed any of the stranger's words. Words that triggered a long locked away memory to burst free.

~~

_"Well, dearie." Rumplestiltskin leered at the foolish trespasser who minutes ago attempted to stab him with an interesting but inadequate bodkin. When that failed the wannabe assassin had shot a barrage of throwing knives dipped in some kind of burning liquid that scorched the flesh of whatever it touched. None had hit the Dark One, even if one had, the concoction wouldn't've done anything to him. "I'm not sure if you're brave or foolish or just have some sort of death wish." He paused, his dark gaze shifting towards Belle._

_The young woman whimpered, nursing a burn on her side, one of the poison-coated knives having grazed her. It was painful enough that she couldn't stand or pay clear attention to what was happening around her._

_"Well…." Rumplestiltskin scowled, his narrowed eyes returning to the assassin. "A death wish it is then." He growled, breaking the stranger's neck with a twist of his fingers. Next he knelt by Belle and healed her injured side - the poison though foreign to the realm was not at all magical, and so was simple to negate. "There, all better."_

_"I...thank you." Belle gasped in relief once the scorching pain subsided, her brain clouded from how excruciating it'd been. She didn't quite notice the way Rumplestiltskin faltered at her gratitude, or his confusion at his own actions._

_"It…. I couldn't very well let you remain injured, you wouldn't be very much help to me as a maid then." He replied coolly, the next moment magically rounding up the throwing knives littered around the room and in the walls. Next his attention shifted to the bodkin the foolish assassin had first tried using - the engraving on its blade distinctive and familiar: that of a large gilded scarab that also resembled a skull if observed upside down. "...one would think after their first few botched attempts, these Nemesis assassins would give up trying to kill me." He muttered before teleporting himself away to his vault with a flick of his wrist, bringing with him the assassin's corpse and all the things the fool had brought._

~~

Belle frowned and tensed as the memory played out in her head, taking no more than a handful of seconds. Her hands shaking and her chest feeling heavy, she glared at her father and the assassin.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sheriff's Station:

"...there was another car. The accident…." Emma took a deep breath, her brain reeling from what David had discovered. Her eyes met Killian's. "It wasn't a single car collision - there was another car involved. One that crashed into yours."

Killian blinked, his first impulse to deny the presence of another car that night since there hadn't been one around when he was struggling to get to Gideon. That was, however, the only part of the accident he remembered clearly, every other bit of it was a blur. Or blank.

"Do you remember another car being there that night, Killian?" Emma asked, her emotions a jumble of wanting there to have been another car and fearing that same possibility.

"I...I don't. It's a blur. All of it. The only thing I remember is frantically trying to get to Gideon. To make sure he was…." His breath caught, the memory of pulling the toddler's crushed body from the child seat flashing before his eyes. Emma hurried forward, wide eyed at the way her husband's arms shook, Sadie still sleeping cradled in them. She swiftly braced his arms with her own underneath to protect against Sadie falling, something that drew Killian out of the vivid flashback. His eyes widened. "...shit. I...bloody hell." He swore, trying to calm his racing heart and to chase away the phantom sensation of holding Gideon's broken body. He held Sadie in his arms, not the unfortunate toddler.

"Killian, it's alright, I have her." Emma soothed her husband, correctly deducing that the pirate was alarmed that he may almost have dropped their baby. "She won't fall."

"I know, luv, I…."

The sheriff station's door opening interrupted the pirate, the sound drawing their attention even before Regina's sharp inhale accompanied by the sound of clicking heels. Emma could feel the mayor's glare, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. "What the hell is this?!"

"It's me letting my husband hold our daughter." Emma snapped, glowering.

"While leaving the cell door open?" Regina scowled, tempted to magically slam shut the jail cell door. Instead she stopped a few feet from the cell and crossed her arms. "I'm assuming you opened it because David called and told you what he and Henry discovered."

"That another car may have crashed into Killian's that night? Yes, I just got off the phone with my dad." Emma replied, a snappy undercurrent to her voice. "It took five days for anyone to check it, but he said it was obvious on inspection that someone rammed into the car."

"...There is evidence that another car collided with Killian's, after which the driver drove off. But…." Regina met Emma's glare with her own cold scowl. "That doesn't change the fact that Killian was driving drunk. Both he, and this other driver once located, will serve jail time. Killian for DUI and this other driver for fleeing the scene of an accident."

"Regina…." Emma frowned, taking Sadie from Killian before standing up. Her heart still clenched at the idea of her husband being imprisoned for any length of time, but the accident being a hit-and-run improved the chance that Killian wouldn't be jailed for too long.

"No." Killian mumbled, his lips slightly gaped and his eyes pointed towards the floor though his focus was on his thoughts. He shook his head slowly, bile bubbling in his gut with a mix of fear and dread. It started the moment Emma mentioned the other car ramming into his, and with the dread came flashes from before the crash. Most was still a blur, but one bit did slide into focus. "I...stopped."

"...Killian?"

"I stopped. Emma." Killian met his wife's eye, the few seconds he remembered growing clearer and clearer. With the memory came a growing dread, a numbing horror of something he'd seen in those seconds. Something that had made him slam on his car brakes, confused and horrified, and completely unaware of his surroundings. Unaware that he had stopped in the middle of an intersection and unaware of a car speeding towards his. "I stopped the car. I...bloody hell."

"You mean you pulled over?" Regina inquired, scrutinizing the pirate, wondering if he was going to try and blame the other driver who'd left the scene. Her eyes widened when he shook his head, while between them Emma gasped and tensed.

"I didn't pull over. I stopped in the middle of the intersection." Killian admitted, closing his eyes as he tried to recall more of that night.

"Why the hell would you do that?! Did your car break down or run out of gas?" Regina asked, while Emma focused on Sadie who had woken up and started fussing. Her eyes narrowed when Killian shook his head. "Then why?"

"I saw something. Or thought I saw something. Something….I'm not sure what." Killian paused, his head pounding as he tried remembering what he'd seen, but the brief memory faded swiftly and all that remained was dread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this fic has become very different than I planned out; though admittedly I planned originally planned to do a jumpskip almost immediately after Sadie was born, so I could focus on an almost grown up Sadie, and Gold's plan for revenge. I am still trying to move the story towards that, it's difficult though. Especially since I have an idea for another Once Upon a Time story that I came up with after the Series Finale, and I have to fight my urge to start a new fic. (I have a horrible habit of starting new stories before I finish my current ones and never going back to finish them.)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this fic, and continue until I finish it. (It might take a while longer than usual to update after this chapter since I have terrible writer's block and have already rewritten chapter 12 (the next chapter) three times.)


	12. The Assassin

### Chapter Twelve: The Assassin

_The stairs creaked._

__

_Pale cheeks drenched with tears and chin trembling, Belle lifted her head up at the sound; the house so quiet each soft step and creak felt like loud hammer-blows. Not a one did she miss, but heard the careful footsteps approach - moving from the stairs through the corridor. Slow but determined._

__

_"...Rumple?" She called out, her voice trembling and nearly breaking. Still clenching Gideon's book to her chest she climbed to her feet, barely noting the vomit stains on her dress and shoes. All that mattered was grieving with her husband, holding him and finding some possible solace together. To make some sense of their loss._

__

_As she steadied herself against the sink and tried to bring blood flow back into her trembling legs, her eyes fell on a small hand-carved chest. Gilded at its corners and hinges, the rest painted a glittering silver, the small chest laid snugly in its corner of the bathroom's counter-tops. Housing her perfumes and makeup, it had been a gift from her husband, one of several he'd given her since Gideon's first birthday. Gifts given to make up for all those years they missed out on during the curse and all the times he lied to and hurt her since it broke. And especially to make up for the delay in their travels._

__

_"We should've left sooner." Belle sniffled, thinking about the photobook Gold had gotten her a year ago - still packed away in their closet, waiting for when they'd begin their travels. Travels that would never come now, not now that they'd lost Gideon and would have to bury him. "...Perhaps we'd be welcoming a child rather than burying..." Belle coughed, trying to hold back a sob as she opened the chest and took out the positive pregnancy test she'd hidden there. "This was supposed to be a happy anniversary surprise, but…."_

__

_She turned to face her husband, believing it was him walking through the house. Her eyes widened at the darkly cloaked stranger standing inches from the doorway, but before she caught more than a glimpse of his fiendishly red-eyes, he knocked her out._

__

_"Well…." The crimson-eyed assassin stood above the unconscious beauty, taking the pregnancy test from her hand with a surprised grin. "Seems the blood price will definitely be paid in full tonight." He laughed and bent down, taking out the vial of magically enhanced sleeping draught he'd pilfered from the bedroom. "Sweet dreams. Let Fortunato grant you a gentle death, before there befalls a worse tragedy for you." He whispered in Belle's ear, and poured the draught down her throat, before switching it with the pregnancy test in the unconscious woman's hand._

__

~~

__

The assassin, Fortunato, leaned against the hallway wall, his crimson eyes watching the grieving mother glare at her father. His lips twitched, finding it amusing that Belle focused her grief-fueled glower on Maurice and not himself. Though, part of that could be that he kept himself a distance away from the grief-stricken woman and didn't attempt to lie or justify anything. Unlike Maurice, who was torn between admitting the truth and avoiding it altogether.

__

"...you, whoever you are, explain to me..." Belle said, surprising both men by addressing Fortunato, but glowering at Maurice. "Killian was driving drunk so...how was his accident because of this...feud you have with my father?"

__

The assassin leered at the brunette, grinning with perverse delight at the woman's naivete. "...do you really think it's difficult for a hitman to stage an accident? Or find a...patsy to take the fall?"

__

Belle tensed, covering her mouth in horror and from nausea. She touched her stomach nearly subconsciously, though Fortunato noted the action and understood its significance. His scarlet eyes lingered on the woman's stomach, his lips twitching.

__

"One just needs to create a plausible scenario with the right character, in such a way that it won't be questioned." Fortunato drawled, leaning against the wall and watching Belle. The chestnut haired woman stared back at him, terrified and filled with a burning question. One she didn't dare ask.

__

"...Belle?" Alarmed by his daughter seeming ill, Maurice hurried to her side. "Are you all right? Are you…."

__

"Heh." The red-eyed man laughed, intrigued by the question and Maurice's ignorance. His piercing gaze locked on Belle, his hand wrapped around the handle of the tanto sheathed at his waist. "You haven't told anyone, have you?"

__

Belle shivered and backed away instinctively once she saw the weapon, her arms pulled protectively around her abdomen. Maurice grabbed his daughter by the shoulders, trying to stop her from backing up too far. His round eyes locked on Belle's tear stained cheeks.

__

"There's a reason I said the blood price was fully paid five nights ago." He whispered, fully unsheathing his tanto. "I believed Belle here to be fatally poisoned, along with her unborn child. I hadn't counted on the Dark One returning home in time to heal her."

__

Fortunato smirked, and lunged the next second, aiming to sink his blade into the pretty brunette.

__

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

__

_The figure in the hoodie approached, lips curled into a sneer. It seemed to be mouthing something, a taunt? A question? He couldn't be sure, only that his stomach twisted in horror and goosebumps spread over his skin when he caught a glimpse of the figure's face._

__

_"It can't be…."_

__

~~

__

"You saw 'something'? Care to elaborate?" Regina asked Killian while standing in front of the open cell door, preventing the pirate from doing anything but gazing at Emma and Sadie. The five day old had started crying incessantly, flailing her tiny arms about, and distracting her parents.

__

"I…." Killian stared at his wife and child, watching as Emma rocked Sadie in her arms. The feeling of dread gnawing at his gut refusing to go away, and rather getting stronger with each attempt of his to remember that night. "I saw something, I…." He grimaced and faced Regina, fear and worry in his eyes. "I'm not sure what I saw, just….I want to hold Sadie, just let me hold my daughter."

__

Regina started to reply, then stopped; seeing the concern in the pirate's face, the worry in his eyes, moved her. It also felt strange, disconcerting to see how upset Killian was about Sadie - it'd been only seconds since he was calm and happy holding her.

__

"Killian, it's okay." Emma returned to the cell door, Sadie fussy but no longer crying. "Sadie's okay, I'm okay. Just answer Regina's question. What made you stop the car?" Emma sat down on the sofa next to the cell, holding Sadie so Killian could see her cherub face and tiny arms clearly. "Killian?"

__

"I…." Killian sat on the cell bed, right next to the bars nearest the sofa. Gazing at his daughter in her mother's arms, he expected the dread he felt to fade. Yet it lingered, and with it guilt.

__

"Hook, you need to tell us what you saw that caused you to stop at that intersection."

__

"I don't remember. There was something, but what...I…." Killian faltered, his blue eyes gazing down at his daughter's matching ones. He smiled at her, ignoring the dread gnawing at his gut and the guilt mingling with it; or at least he tried. He flinched, his head suddenly pounding.

__

"Killian? What's…." Emma noticed her husband's flinch and tensed, her brow knit in concern. She bristled, alarmed, when Killian cursed and clenched his head. Her alarm became panic when the pirate fell to the floor, clutching his head and cursing from pain. "Killian?!"

__

"What…." Regina froze a moment, for a split second thinking that the pirate was faking. She quickly dismissed the suspicion and hurried to his side, all of her attention keen on figuring out what was wrong. She'd even had her hand out ready to use a healing spell, just in case it was a lingering concussion or other injury from the accident.

__

Her eyes widened at the gilded scarab mark on the back of his neck; it glowed bright and then faded, before pulsing back. The pirate cursing in pain each time it glowed.

__

"What the hell is that?!" Emma exclaimed, her eyes wide and heart racing at the strange mark. She scowled and held Sadie close after Regina magicked the cell door shut. "Regina…."

__

"I got this, stay back." Regina replied, waving her hand slowly over the mark. Sensing its dark magic, she scowled and focused on deciphering what it did so she could counteract it. It took less than half a minute to figure out, and more than one to stifle it. Albeit she suspected only temporarily. Regina took in a deep breath as the mark stopped glowing and Killian closed his eyes, unconscious but no longer in pain. With a wave of her hand, she teleported the pirate to the cell bed.

__

With a similar wave of her hand, Regina opened the cell door and stepped back a bit, allowing Emma to hurry to Killian's side. The blonde knelt next to the cell cot, her heart still palpitating heavily from seeing her husband writhing in pain; holding Sadie snugly in her arms, Emma gazed down at Killian. Confused, angry, frightened, and yet ready to face whatever it was that hurt her husband - whatever or whoever that strange mark represented.

__

"What the hell was that?" Emma muttered after checking that Killian was all right, though unconscious. She peered up at Regina, scowling and holding Sadie close. "That mark...whatever it was, was hurting Killian. It…is it something Gold put on him? Some curse or spell for his revenge?"

__

"No. Gold didn't cast that." Regina shook her head, jaw taut and eyes narrowed as she mulled over the gilded scarab mark. It was a mark she'd seen once before, back when she was the Evil Queen. In one of her last ditch efforts to kill Snow White before she settled on the Dark Curse, she'd made inquiries into an out-of-realm assassin guild; a group trying to make a name for themselves outside of their home realm. "It's the mark of Nemesis."

__

"Nemesis? Do you mean like a rival or…."

__

"The goddess of retribution?" Henry asked breathlessly, having hurried through the hall leading to the sheriff office after hearing shouting coming from the room. His gaze flitted between both his moms, neither of which had heard him enter the room moments before. Long enough for him to catch the name Nemesis and talk of a mark, but not any more than that.

__

"Henry." Emma stood up, and beckoned her son, flashing a smile at him. It was then that Henry noticed that both his mothers were standing in the open cell. His eyes narrowed in curiosity and concern.

__

"What happened? Did someone attack Killian?" Henry asked after noticing that his stepfather was unconscious and that Emma seemed upset.

__

"Um…."

__

"Yes. Nemesis." Regina interrupted, leaving the cell after Emma, and magically locking it. The action causing Emma to scowl at her, a scowl that shifted into a confused expression when the mayor cast a quick protection spell around the jail cell.

__

"Um? Regina? What's the protection spell for? Why…."

__

"Just a precaution, in case the bastards come back for the pirate, though I doubt they will." Replied Regina, confusing and alarming Emma and Henry. Before either could ask her to elaborate, she continued. "The Nemesis that attacked Killian isn't the goddess of retribution, but a group of assassins who adopted the moniker."

__

"Assassins?!" Emma gaped, pausing a moment as she mulled over the information. Her eyes widened and chest tightened, a possibility jumping at her. "Wait, you don't mean that...the driver in the other car that sped off that night was trying to kill Killian?"

__

"...while I'm sure that your husband likely made many enemies before he came to Storybrooke, I doubt he was the target." Regina muttered, her eyes livid as the truth revealed itself to her. "I once tried to hire Nemesis myself to kill Snow White. And that's because Nemesis had a zero-percent failure rate. They don't stop until they kill their target. Nemesis was close enough to your husband to mark him...if Killian was the target, he'd already be dead."

__

"Okay, but if Killian wasn't…." Emma's eyes widened in horror and disgust as she realized the same thing as the mayor. "No….just, no. You think the driver wanted to kill Gideon?! But...who would want to assassinate a two-year-old?! Why?! What could a child possibly have done…."

__

"Rumplestiltskin." Regina interrupted, her expression dour and jaw taut. "As the Dark One, he's made many enemies and there are those who covet his power, it's not a stretch to imagine one of them going after his son in revenge."

__

"That's just…." Emma bristled, already taking out her phone to call her parents to babysit Sadie so she could track down the driver with Regina.

__

Henry, having listened to the conversation and gleaned the horrible truth early on, was already dialing a number. Gold's cell phone number. His jaw clenched when it went straight to voicemail. He next switched to dialing his paternal grandpa's home number.

__


	13. Crossroads

### Chapter Thirteen: Crossroads

_"We lost members of our...family. It's only fair you lose some of yours."_

_Sir Maurice paled staring into the assassin's scarlet eyes and listening to that threat being crooned out. He bristled when the man stepped closer, terrified even though the tanto the other had was safely sheathed. The whispers he'd heard of Nemesis and those counted as members within it were laced with warnings of their cutthroat, bloodthirsty natures. Cold and lethal. He had no doubt that this assassin would be able to slaughter him easily, and without compunction._

_"Though, on second thought." The man stopped, his crimson eyes less livid and more thoughtful. Almost like a predator deciding whether to give its prey a reprieve. "There is something I seek, that may...compensate my brothers and sisters well for the losses we sustained."_

_"Wh...what is...this some...something?" Maurice stammered, his skin crawling under the other's piercing gaze._

_"First, let me show you what will happen if you don't pay." The assassin crooned and snapped his fingers; Maurice's vision went dark and when it returned he was floating over his own body. He tried to speak, to scream, shout for the guards - anything, but no sound escaped him. Then with another snap of the assassin's fingers, Maurice was back in his body collapsed on the floor._

_"Wh...what the...what the hell was that?!" Maurice gasped, his lungs heaving for breath and his heart pattering wildly. He struggled back to his feet, his extremities feeling numb and his legs shaking._

_"Just a trick of mine. Learned it from a necromancer years and years back. Quite useful." The assassin grinned, delighting in the fear pulsing through Maurice's veins. He licked his lips, nearly able to taste the weaker man's terror. "Now, where were we? Ah, yes. There's an item my brethren and I seek, originally from our land, it made its way to this one some time ago. If you were to present this item to me, then the blood price could be forgotten."_

_"I...can't spare any guards, those who survived the ogres are needed to defend against brigands and the like while we rebuild, so whatever this item is...unless its close by, I can't promise..."_

_"Oh! But that's the thing! It is close by. Or should be." The assassin smirked, his eyes never flitting from Maurice's face. "In your family's burial vaults to be exact. An enchanted chest, once belonging to a certain knight who went by Fortuné."_

_Maurice's eyes widened, knowing the chest the assassin meant. The shakiness of his limbs stilled, and instead gave way to tenseness. "How do you...?"_

_"I have my ways. Now, will you present it to me?"_

_"I..." Maurice took in a deep breath, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. Part of him relieved that the assassin's price was something so easily obtainable, and the other part terrified. The chest in question, belonging once to his great-great grandmother, had lost all its enchantment when she passed. Thus giving it to this deadly man wouldn't be dangerous itself, but the assassin discovering its lack of enchantment could be. "I just have to present you the chest?"_

_The assassin tilted his head in affirmation, the gesture less of a nod and more of a bow._

_Maurice hesitated a moment, thinking about the chest stored within the burial vaults beneath the castle. Mulling over whether to risk giving the assassin the useless thing, and whether it would be too disrespectful to his ancestors to give away such an heirloom. He grimaced. "All right. But I can't bring it to you - removing it from the family crypt would be too disrespectful - but I can bring you to it."_

_The assassin digested Maurice's modified offer, fingering his sheathed tanto's handle. He mumbled something under his breath, most of which Maurice didn't catch. The nobleman did make out the words wine cellar and wall, though. "Fine. Lead the way. But if you try anything...treacherous...I'll bleed you like I did the Montresors."_

_Maurice gave an uneasy smile at the name, not recognizing it. But fully recognizing the threat and enmity laced within each syllable. He gestured towards a door leading out the back of the chamber and into a corridor, a narrow and cold space that led to another door. Behind which lay a stone staircase._

_"It's down there. I…." Maurice faltered, feeling the assassin's glare on his back, and took a torch from one of the wall sconces. Part of him was tempted to simply allow the assassin to descend into the crypt himself, take whatever he wanted, but Maurice knew he'd never be able to rest peacefully if he allowed that. He sucked in a breath and descended. "No one has been interred down here in decades….last one was my grandfather. And he…."_

_"I care little about your family, Sir Maurice. Just about Fortuné's enchanted chest." The assassin interrupted, walking closely behind the other man, close enough that Maurice should've felt his breath on his neck. There was none, however, no breathing, no heartbeat from the red-eyed man._

_Maurice shivered and nodded, continuing the descent in silence. His heart palpitating quicker with each step, the names the assassin had mentioned repeating in his head._

~~

The sharp bleating of the house phone cut through the downstairs and carried upwards to the second floor. Its shrill shriek drowned out the groans and sobbing coming from upstairs and the creaking floorboards as the assassin loitered. His red-eyes leered at the chestnut haired woman clutching her abdomen, widening in arousal at the crimson plush drenching the woman's hands.

"I warned you, sweet Belle, that a worse tragedy would befall you." Fortunato whispered, licking his lips. He knelt beside Belle, watching her struggle to stay conscious, her trembling hands trying to staunch the stab wound in her lower abdomen. A cold-hearted smile spread over his face seeing the horror in the librarian's bright blue eyes. She knew. From the moment his blade pierced her flesh, she knew what he was after and how futile it was to hope that maybe he'd miss.

That maybe his blade would miss the small bundle of life growing inside her.

Belle shook and sobbed, her fingers slimy with her own blood; her cheeks glistening with tears. "...w…why…?" She whimpered and flinched as Fortunato touched her cheek, pushing a few straggly strands of hair behind her ear. His fingers were ice cold, and though his eyes were a gleaming, fiery red, there was no real warmth to his affect. "Fir...first Gideon….now…." She faltered, glancing down at her abdomen and her hands sticky with blood. "...why?"

Fortunato simply grinned, coldly. "...That's the question, isn't it? Why? I could say it's the blood price being paid or a client's order or that I long ago asked the same question once of a...friend, but was denied an answer. A friend...fiend...of which your father…." He peeked down the stairs where Maurice lay, motionless at the bottom - the foolish florist had attempted to protect Belle and had been pushed down them for his troubles. "...sorely reminded me." Fortunato paused and licked his lips, holding out his blood drenched tanto so the gilded scarab mark was visible beneath the blood. It glowed and pulled the red liquid towards itself, almost like it was drinking it. "I offered him a way out, you know, out of his blood debt. All he had to do was give me an enchanted chest belonging to your family. Know what he did instead? Your father locked me inside your family's ancestral vaults. In the Catacombs! I swear, if he was any more like Montresor I'd…."

Belle trembled, only partly listening to the assassin, her vision blurring. _'My baby...my…I can't…I can't...'_ She shut her eyes tightly just as the phone stopped ringing, blocking everything out as she pleaded for a way to undo what Fortunato had done. To save at least her unborn child, if bringing Gideon back was impossible. She repeated the plea, muttering it incoherently while clutching her bleeding abdomen.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The castle was dim and dour, its many treasures coated with dust; a result of being uninhabited for years, except by the occasional squatter. Gold glanced around, his brown eyes taking quick note of which items were missing and how long going by the amount of dust on each pedestal. It didn't matter much to him which ones remained, all the items he'd really cared about he'd made sure were brought to Storybrooke during the first curse. Mostly items connected to the original cursed residents or that he'd viewed as potentially useful.

None of which were useful to him now. Not that he'd come back here for any of his remaining artifacts or baubles, anyway. Not one of the enchanted trinkets could bring back the dead, making each one worthless to him. Utterly useless.

His gaze lingered mere seconds on each item arrayed around the abandoned castle, searching not for magic but rather a more mundane object. A painting that he'd received years ago from a bankrupt merchant in exchange for a small sum of coin, it was one of his earliest and more innocuous deals. Hardly more than a business transaction between a buyer and a seller.

"Where…ah, there." Gold mumbled as he search and located the painting, the small masterpiece tucked away in the corner of a glass-paned cabinet. His lips twitched as he picked it up and gazed at the tawny greens and violets of the alcove depicted on its canvas. A grove of trees towering around a shadowed clearing where nothing but the sparsest strands of light peeked through.

It was identical to the wooded area he saw in his vision of the pirate's daughter. The alcove where Emma and Hook's grown up child crushed a heart in front of her parents. This painting depicted that place, making finding it the first key to his future revenge. Once he found it, he could set everything in motion and simply wait.

"Such a quaint little spot. It's almost a shame…." Gold mumbled, scanning the painting and the back of the canvas for any hint of a location or artist name. Anything identifiable, anything to pinpoint where and in what realm the place existed. It was over two centuries old, so the painter was likely long dead as was the merchant who sold it to him. His eyes narrowed on an inscription at the bottom left corner, reading only the brief description: _a silent dell_. "You're going to be quite the troublesome spot to find, aren't you?" Gold grinned coldly, taking a few moments longer to scrutinize the painting before glancing out the windows.

Outside the landscape was luminous and verdant, a beautiful sight he had seldom ever appreciated. Even back when he first moved into the castle, he had barely remarked on the natural beauty surrounding his new abode, focusing instead on the castle itself. Now though, he lingered on it. His somber eyes locked on one of the trees, hidden from view by the rest of forest at every other angle, but discernible from his spot. It was different from the other trees, being the oldest one and the only juniper in the grove.

Gold gazed somber and wistful at the solitary juniper, his thoughts going back to a story he heard once as a lad. It was an old story, just a tale that the spinsters who raised him had told one day. A tale about a juniper tree and a child who'd been buried beneath it. In it a murdered child was resurrected after being buried at the foot of the juniper, leading to a superstition amid some of the older village folk that those buried beneath junipers were bound to return. Through his insight as the Dark One, Gold knew it was nonsense - no magic could bring back the dead - yet he still stared at the tree pondering 'what if?' What if he buried Gideon beneath the juniper tree? Would he get his son back?

_'Even if it doesn't work, at least Gideon will be surrounded by such beauty rather than stuck in a cold, wretched cemetery.'_ Gold mumbled to himself, clenching his fist tightly in effort to keep from breaking down. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, shifting his focus from his son to his wife.

Uneasiness gnawed at his heart as he thought about Belle mourning back in Storybrooke while he was here. Worse, he'd taken Gideon's body from the funeral parlor and come here with the intent of burying his son alone. Caught up in his grief for Gideon and reeling from finding Belle in their bathroom trying to take the easy way out, it'd seemed perfectly all right to leave without Belle.

It was only now, standing in his old castle, that he realized it was unfair and nigh unforgivable to leave his wife behind in Storybrooke. To abandon her to her grief and not even give her a chance to be there when he buried their son. He cursed himself under his breath, scowling in frustration as he took out a magic bean. It would be simple to go back to Storybrooke, but getting back to the Enchanted Forest afterwards would be tricky.

In his determination not to be followed, he had destroyed the magic bean crop Tiny had been tending as well as any other beans he could find - aside from the two he took for himself.

_-"What's it going to be, dearie?" His Dark One subconscious tittered at him, sensing his weakening conviction. "Do you go back to poor, grieving Belle and lose all hope at turning the Pirate's and Savior's daughter dark or do you continue on your path towards vengeance? Vengeance for Gideon and for Bae."-_

Gold glanced downward in thought, lingering on his subconsciousness' words. The vision he had of the pirate's daughter - Sadie's - future was brief and unclear on whose heart she crushed. It could be anyone's. Anyone's. Including the witch who practically murdered his firstborn through trickery.

_-"Think, dearie. You know Sadie is destined to crush someone's heart. You can manipulate things so she crushes Zelena's." The imp goaded, his tone singsongy and low. "Seventeen or eighteen more years and you'll have vengeance for both your sons….you just have to not use that bean right now."-_

Gold shut his eyes, mulling over his choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was nearly as difficult to write as chapter 12...
> 
> I can't believe how horrible I'm being to Belle, having her lose Gideon and then having another assassin stab her to get to her unborn child...I did not plan on that in the beginning, but I go where my muse and the story seems to want to go...
> 
> Would you believe that she's my favorite character after Gold? I have a bad habit of putting my favorite characters through the worst things...
> 
> Futhermore, I wasn't planning on using characters from Edgar Allan Poe's works...but seeing as the show itself included Frankenstein, Jekyll and Hyde, and the Count of Monte Cristo, it doesn't seem too out of place to include Fortunato, (and possibly others...). BTW, the assassin was originally just gonna be a completely original character, without much of a background story, but then I thought of the idea of making him Fortunato and giving my own spin on the character.


	14. Fortunato

### Chapter Fourteen: Fortunato

_A Few Centuries Ago, in Another Realm:_

_It was dark and cold, and the stones reeked of damp. A chill passed through him, gliding down his spine, the alcohol-bestowed warmth long since gone from his limbs. Replaced instead by numbness and a raging fever._

_He shivered, a rat scurrying over his foot and then behind his leg. The sound its feet made crawling over the stone and old bones grated on his ears, and its stench added to the mustiness. His breathing quickened and he retched, only nothing came up; it'd been weeks since he ate anything, his only sustenance a bottle of wine._

_He finished that off about five days ago, according to his estimate of time. It was difficult to tell. The darkness surrounding him gave no hint to how long it'd been since he first became trapped. Or rather, imprisoned, within the wall. He only knew he slept and woke over fourteen times since Montresor left, and his fever came and went twice._

_Now it was back, worse than before and his skull felt ready to burst. Shuddering as another rat crawled by him, he pounded and clawed against the stone sealing him in. Fingernails broken and worn down to his fingertips, the skin of which was torn and caked with dry blood, he clawed at the wall, muttering._

_"I will kill you...I will…." He hissed, barely able to open his eyes from fever, not that it would've made much difference in the dark. "This life or the next….or the next….I'll….argh!"_

_The rat, tired of running by him or perhaps just famished like himself, bit his heel. He swore and sputtered, ready to grab hold of the vermin and tear its head off. A prospect that sounded more and more delectable each time he considered it. Breath quickening and his stomach growling at the idea of food, he reached down as low as he could, trying to grab the rat before it could scurry off._

_He growled when it bit deeper, unaware of the danger of his hand; it screeched and struggled as he snatched it up. Within seconds he placed it within his mouth and bit down on it, tearing into its back viciously and desperately. Its warm blood and guts spilling onto his tongue - he could barely describe how sublime yet grotesque it tasted and felt._

_It was a rat, a plague riddled vermin, yet he savored it. Ate every bit of it, flesh and bone and organs. And after he finished he leaned his head against the wall and sighed, satiated. He closed his eyes and resumed muttering, repeating Montresor's name. And his vow._

_"I'll kill you. I will kill you. Bleed you. This life or the next….or the next….Montresor….I'll..."_

_"Ahh...Uhm?" A gasp and the clattering of a lantern dropping onto stone interrupted, there was also the clip-clapping of feet hurrying away and tripping repeatedly towards the exit._

_His eyes shot open and he pounded at the wall, shouting as loud as his scratchy voice could._

_"Who...who's there?" A steady and gentle voice asked, too near to belong to the fleeing one. He was shocked by it, for it was a child's voice and held little fear. "What are you doing in our uncle's crypt? Are you a ghost?"_

_"I…."_

_"...-elle! What are you doing?! Come on! You know what uncle said!" Another voice called out, older than both the one who had fled and the one who spoke to him. It was obvious that its owner hadn't heard him behind the wall. "No playing down here. It's disrespectful."_

_"But sis…." The younger child whined, but followed her sister's order, walking away from the wall before the man in the wall could call out again. As the children's footsteps faded in the distance, he glowered and swore._

~~

Storybrooke:

Tap, tap, tap.

Fortunato stood up swiftly upon hearing knocking coming from the front door. His crimson eyes nearly glowing, he slipped silently into another room just in time to avoid being seen by Henry opening the door cautiously.

"...hello? Is anyone…."

Fortunato listened as the 19-year-old's footfalls stopped abruptly, followed closely by a sharp gasp and then by loud footsteps rushing towards the stairs.

"Mr. French!" Henry exclaimed and rushed to Maurice lying on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes wide, he tentatively shook the florist's shoulder to try and awaken him, his stomach tightening. There was no sign that the older man was still breathing.

Fumbling in his pocket for his cell phone, Henry heard a weakened whimper above him, and sprung back to his feet. Realizing it came from upstairs, he immediately hurried up the staircase, his palms sweaty and heart racing. Midway up he heard the whimper again and knew who it was.

"Belle!" Henry blanched seeing the petite woman curled into a ball, bleeding from her abdomen. Nearly stumbling onto his knees as he hurried to Belle's side, he dialed Regina who had gone with Emma to search for Gold first at his shop and then at his cabin.

_-"Henry, what…."-_

"Get here now!" Henry nearly shouted, terrified that explaining would delay his mother getting there in time. His voice trembled as he hung up and focused on applying pressure to Belle's abdomen, a shiver rushed down his spine as her warm blood quickly drenched his hands. "Please hold on, grandma Belle, my moms are on their way. Please."

"...by….my ba...baby….my…." Belle mumbled, barely conscious. "Need...to save…."

"Ah...shhh. It'll be okay." Henry replied, confused by what the librarian was mumbling about but chalking it up to grief and delirium due to blood loss.

"Not quite." Fortunato hissed and tossed something onto the floor beside the 19-year-old. His red eyes leered at Henry, watching as the young man bristled and glanced at the object: The positive pregnancy test Fortunato had pilfered from Belle five nights ago. He gave a twisted, half smile at Henry's expression.

It took only seconds for the 19-year-old to put two-and-two together.

"No…." Henry muttered, horrified as he stared at the petite woman's bleeding abdomen. Fortunato approached a few steps, still leering down at the young man.

"You're Rumplestiltskin's grandson." Fortunato hissed, unsheathing his tanto. The gilded scarab mark on its blade gleamed the nearer he approached Henry. His crimson eyes lit up as he readied the tanto. "You're not a target, but your blood will be quite useful…."

"Don't you even THINK about hurting my son!" Growled Regina, appearing in a cloud of magic, along with Emma, behind Fortunato. Livid, she lifted Fortunato magically and started choking him, while Emma hurried towards Belle. Her eyes narrowed at the dagger in Fortunato's hand and the gilded scarab mark. "I'd gladly snap your neck and that of any of your cohorts."

"...Mom!" Henry piped up, concern in his voice at the thought of his mother Regina killing anyone in cold blood, even someone like Fortunato.

Fortunato simply laughed, unfazed, and completely unaffected by Regina's magical grip about his throat. "Snap my neck? Heh...I'd like to see you try, your majesty."

"What the…." Regina stared perplexed at the red-eyed assassin, her magical chokehold firm enough that any normal person would be struggling not to pass out.

"Not that it'd do much good." Fortunato continued, his crimson glare shifting back towards Belle. His lips twitched as Emma healed the brunette and a cold grin spread over his face when Emma noticed the pregnancy test lying on the floor.

"That's…." Emma mumbled and reached for it, only for a healed Belle to snatch it first. The brunette hugged it to her breast and curled back into a ball, ignoring everyone around her. Belle clung to it, her lips trembling and body heaving with quiet sobs. Emma felt numb as she listened to the librarian's quiet sobbing and pleas not to lose another child. "No…."

"Heh. You're too late." Fortunato simply sneered, his crimson eyes narrowed to slits. "The blood price is paid. In full." He laughed and snapped his fingers, vanishing in a cloud of ash and dust.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Night Of the Accident:_

_The figure in the hoodie approached, lips curled into a sneer. It seemed to be mouthing something, a taunt? A question? He couldn't be sure, only that his stomach twisted in horror and goosebumps spread over his skin when he caught a glimpse of the figure's face._

_"It can't be…." Killian mumbled and gripped the steering wheel tightly, his heart beating quick like a machine gun. The figure stopped, its face illuminated by the headlights of Killian's car. Its familiar countenance deathly pale and gray tinged, its eyes lifeless; Killian stared horrified at it, not believing what he was seeing and unable to move. "...father?"_

_Seconds after muttering that word, another car with its headlights turned off rammed into his, crashing hard into the back passenger-side door. The impact caused him to slam his head against the driver-side window, knocking him out._

_When he came to, there were voices arguing and a throbbing in his head. He swore incoherently and fumbled with the car door, managing to open it just as one of the voices - his father's - vanished. Killian stumbled out of the car, realizing after he attempted to stand that his foot was broken. He hissed in pain and fell. "...fuck."_

_"Ooh. That's gotta sting, captain." A man approached, holding the hoodie that Killian's father, or the thing that resembled the long dead man, had worn. His vision blurry, Killian was just able to make out the gilded amulet the other wore, alarm bells ringing in his head at the sight of it. The man leered at the injured pirate, his lips twisted in a cold smirk. "It's too bad…."_

_"...what?" Killian growled, attempting to lift himself up using the car as a brace. It failed, and he stumbled back to the asphalt, dizziness hitting him. "...what's too bad?"_

_"...you're not my target." The man sneered and glanced towards the backseat of the pirate's car._

_Killian bristled, alarm filling his eyes. His brain felt immersed in a heavy mental fog, yet he realized exactly what the other meant. Gideon was the only person in his car. Snarling Killian lunged at the sneering man, to sink his hook into the bastard's heart. Or at least he tried. He stumbled, tripped up by his broken foot and dizziness, his vision blurry. Just as he struck the asphalt, he heard the other man approach, mumbling something._

_Before he could make out what it was, Killian's vision blacked out completely, unconsciousness overtaking him._

X

"...idd…don't…" Killian mumbled, lying asleep on the bed in his cell. The marking on his neck and the headache accompanying it long since faded.

Across the room a man dressed in tawny trousers and a faded white shirt, stared at the pirate. A peculiar expression was on his face, one of worry and regret, yet there was a coldness in his eyes. The man clenched his teeth and fists, his longish hair falling into his face, blocking his eyes.

"Killian…." Brennan Jones muttered his son's name, his mouth contorting as he struggled to continue speaking. "I for…."

"I think not." A gray eyed man seethed, stepping into the room, the gilded amulet he wore about his neck glittering beneath the overhead lights. As did the two rubies inlaid on either side, both equidistant from the other. The rubies glowed bright crimson as the man gestured and Brennan knelt down, struggling not to the whole way.

Brennan scowled up at the other man, his death-pale skin illuminated by the ceiling lights. His eyes filled with loathing staring at the man's face and then the amulet; he did so wordlessly however, his tongue silenced by the same magic that forced him to his knees.

The other man glowered back, before shifting his gaze towards the unconscious Killian.

"It is really too bad. I would just love to crush your son's heart in front of you. 'Sins of the fathers' and all that." The man drawled, relishing in the anger and fear-laced glare Brennan gave in response. Seconds later, his gray eyes darkened and his brow furrowed. "...why the hell hasn't the Dark One done so already? I'd have thought…." He grumbled, frowning heavily. A few moments passed before he growled at Brennan. "Find Fortunato. Things haven't gone to plan."

"...yes…." Brennan Jones muttered before leaving, wanting to but unable to refuse.


	15. The Hand of Nemesis

### Chapter Fifteen: The Hand of Nemesis

Enchanted Forest: 

Gazing somberly at his young son's newly dug grave beneath the ancient juniper tree, Gold swallowed and knelt in front of the engraved stone he created to mark Gideon's grave. 

"I know I...I should've waited for your mother…." He closed his eyes and faltered, his voice close to breaking. Clenching his teeth and taking a few steadying breaths to brace himself against breaking down, Gold continued. "I couldn't…I can't go back to Storybrooke yet. I…." Another pause. "The vision I had is clear…If I go back too soon, I won't be the one to corrupt Hook's daughter…and…." He grimaced, struggling to explain himself to his two-year-old son. "...I need to corrupt her. I need that revenge. It's…."

A loud dragon's roar, accompanied by the just as loud flapping of wings drew Gold's attention. He clenched his teeth, attempting to ignore the interruption, only for the dragon to swoop down close by. As the dragon neared the ground, purple smoke enveloped it and it transformed into Maleficent.

Gold glowered, his jaw taut and brown eyes livid as Maleficent approached. His hand twitched from the urge to strangle the sorceress for her intrusion.

"Rumplestiltskin, there's…." Maleficent froze mid-word upon noticing the newly dug grave, her eyes widened in realization. "I...I apologize. I'll wait over…."

Annoyed but needing a respite from grieving, Gold simply waved away the apology, glaring at the sorceress. "What is it you want, dearie? As you can see, I'm…busy."

Maleficent hesitated, her heart cleaving in empathy; though she had eventually been reunited with her daughter, she remembered all too well how heart-wrenching losing her child had been. She'd spent years fearing the worst. "I'm...sorry. No parent should ever….."

Gold tensed, bristling against Maleficent's empathetic words. "Just…just get to the point. Why are you here bothering me? Shouldn't you be on your way to Storybrooke to be the new sheriff? Or did my departure change the heroes minds?"

"No, I'm still going. It's just...Regina contacted me again about 45 minutes ago." Maleficent explained, ignoring Gold's biting and spiteful tone. "Saying to find you and then come to Storybrooke right away. With you."

"No." Gold shook his head, scowling. "I'm not returning. Tell Regina that I'm done staying in her little town." He growled and started to teleport himself away, only to be stopped by the dragon sorceress grabbing his wrist.

"...Your wife was attacked." Maleficent blurted, a shiver of fear slipping through her at the look Gold gave the moment she touched him.

"...what?" Gold tensed, pulling his arm from Maleficent's grasp, his brown eyes narrowed and face filled with alarm. His anger at being interrupted while grieving shifted to worry. "What happened to Belle?!"

"Regina said someone attacked Belle and her father." Maleficent replied, feeling chilled by the murderous gleam in Gold's eyes. "And that you should return to Storybrooke since there's evidence that an assassin group - Nemesis - or something was behind it."

Gold blinked, his face livid but also shocked. "...Nemesis?" He mumbled, the word triggering memories from before Regina cast the dark curse. Back when Belle was still just a servant in his castle, assassins from a group calling itself Nemesis had attempted to kill him a handful of times. Most of their attempts had been amusing, though one of the assassins had riled his temper greatly. "You're sure 'Nemesis' is what Regina said? You didn't mishear her?"

"Quite sure." Maleficent replied coolly, a mite defensive at the dark one's suggestion she'd misheard.

"That's not…." Gold tensed, shaking his head briefly before trailing off and scowling. His shock shifted to disbelief, only to shift again to suspicion. "Nemesis is gone. Eradicated. It couldn't…." He narrowed his eyes, his face filled with anger. "Unless…." Gold muttered, thinking quietly. Seconds later after glancing at Gideon's grave beneath the juniper tree, he addressed Maleficent. "I take it you have a way back to Storybrooke for the both of us, right? Then let's go."

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_Another Realm, Centuries Ago:_

_"What's your name, sweet child?" Fortunato crooned from behind the crypt wall, his nails scratching at the mortar between the bricks while the child chipped away on the other side. His throat and lips were so dry, a few weeks having passed since first catching the attention of the young girl. Montresor's youngest niece._

_"..." The girl chewed on her lip, chiseling away intently at the mortar on her side of the wall. Her palms calloused and rubbed raw from gripping the chisel, she simply continued at her task. Just as she'd done every day since first finding out the stranger was trapped behind the wall._

_"Did your sisters tell you not to tell me your name? Do you still think I'm some demon?" Fortunato whispered, tempted to chuckle except he didn't want to insult the girl or chase her away. He bit hard on his lip, his incisor tearing a hole into the fleshy plush._

_"...what are you then? You've been down here too long to be human." The girl muttered, pausing her work briefly. "Carnival was months ago."_

_Fortunato hesitated, perplexed himself by how he'd survived so long without food or drink, and with little fresh air. Perhaps the crypt rats were more nutritious than he thought or perhaps it was the wine Montresor had encouraged him to drink before trapping him. "...I've been living off the rats."_

_"Eww." The girl grimaced, feeling disgusted and sorry for the stranger behind the wall. The next moment her brow knitted and she tilted her head. "Wait, are you a cat? Like a talking one? Mother used to tell stories about places with talking animals and fairies and giants and ogres and things like that. Are you from one?"_

_Fortunato chuckled, bemused by the girl's innocence. If she still believed in fairytales, perhaps she was younger than he first surmised. Or just gullible._

_Hearing the stranger's laughter, the girl pouted and crossed her arms. Angry tears in her eyes. "Don't laugh. My mother's from a land of magic! She had to flee cuz her father was cursed and forced to do bad things. It's true! She brought magic with her!"_

_"I...I apologize. Sorry." Fortunato replied, fearful upon hearing the girl tossing her chisel. It clattered onto the stone floor, and he tensed wondering if it was still intact. Who knew how much longer it would take to free himself without the girl's aid? "I'm just….wait...did you say your mother brought magic? Here?"_

_The girl nodded her head and made an affirmative uh-uh sound. "The donkey skin cloak she used to escape and evade grandpa Zoso. And branches from a tree that she said is enchanted which father had fastened into a jewelry chest for her."_

_Fortunato thought a moment, not fully believing the girl's story, but not dismissing it either. After all, even if it was only a slight chance, if magic existed then perhaps his escape was closer than he first surmised. "This magic of your mother's….I don't suppose it'd help with breaking this wall, would it?"_

_"Um….I...I don't know. Mother said the chest was enchanted but never explained how it worked. And she said the cloak only hid its bearer from dark magic." The girl replied, picking up the chisel and frowning._

_The metal part of the chisel had broken off from the wooden handle, and though it was long enough that she could still use it by holding the metal end, it would be much worse on her hands. Biting her lip, she tried using it anyway, feeling bad that she'd gotten angry at the stranger. It tore into her palm and she hissed, eyes tearing from the pain._

_"You sound hurt, what is it? Did you get a splinter again?" Fortunato asked, his eyes widening; his nose tickled as he caught the scent of blood. An hunger filled him that both confused and frightened him, and he bit down harder on his lip._

_"The chisel scratched me, but it's okay. I'll bandage it later." The girl resumed her efforts at chiseling through the mortar, unaware of the shift in Fortunato's demeanor. Sealed behind the wall, his eyes turned a dark crimson and filled with a crazed longing to taste the blood he smelled._

Terrified at the hunger he felt, he covered his nose to block out the delicious scent and instead tried to focus on anything else. It was then he felt how gaunt his face had become and how cold his skin. He trembled, images of plague victims filling his thoughts. 'Was I…? Am I….? No, of course not….I….' He thought of the rat he consumed weeks ago - ever since then he'd had neither thirst nor hungered. At least not until smelling the girl's blood. He groaned. 

_"...mister? Are you all right?"_

_"I...I'm fine!" He growled, trying to stifle his hunger; covering his nose having done nothing to stifle the scent of blood. Hearing the girl drop the chisel in surprise, he swore and clenched his fists tightly. "I apology if I scared you. I'm all right. I…."_

_"Isobelle! What are you doing down here?!" A familiar and loathed voice bellowed, its anger directed at the young girl. "When I agreed to watch you and your sisters I demanded you stay out of the family crypts!"_

_"Uncle?! I'm sorry I disobeyed, but there's…." The girl started to explain, only for her uncle to hit her hard across the face. She cried out and fell, hitting the stone floor roughly._

_"Montresor!" Fortunato snarled and clawed at the wall, digging into the stone and mortar with his nails. The crazed hunger in his eyes replaced with an insane rage, anger filling every inch of his body. It seemed to strengthen him, enough that he tore at the wall as though it was brittle as dirt. Within minutes he had torn through the wall, his eyes glowing a fiery, demonic scarlet. "MONTRESOR!"_

_"Nn...no….you can't….you should be….oh, god, Fortunato…." Montresor sputtered, backing away from Fortunato, and starting to hyperventilate. Pure terror filled the man's face, his racing heart pounding painfully beneath his ribcage. "You can't….you can't…."_

_Fortunato lunged at his ex-friend and would-be murderer, anticipation flushing through his body at thought of tearing the man limb from limb in revenge. He snarled, Montresor backing up faster only to suddenly stop and clutch his chest, gasping in pain._

_Before Fortunato even reached him, Montresor fell to the ground, dead, face contorted in sheer fear._

_"...no…." Fortunato muttered, feeling like a man who had stumbled onto untold riches only to have it be taken away seconds later. His crimson eyes glared at Montresor's dead body, his anger intensified at being so cheated. "No!" He cursed and shouted, the crypt walls shaking from his voice; a few of the wine bottles stored closer to the entrance of the crypt shattered. "NO! I was going to rip your heart out! Tear you. Bleed you! Yet you….grarrgh!"_

_A wild look filled his face, and he snarled at Montresor's corpse, his eyes blood red. It took a moment before he noticed Montresor's youngest niece lying unconscious on the crypt's stone floor. When he did, an idea sprung in his head - if he couldn't kill Montresor, he'd just use the man's nieces as substitutes._

_"Sweet, sweet Isobelle…." Fortunato leered down at the youngest niece, calling her by the name Montresor had used. "You should've listened to your sisters…." He smirked and curled up his lips, his sharp incisors visible._

_"And you should've stuck behind your wall." A voice growled, its owner's face distorted by heavy shadow cast by the crypt's sparse torches. Attired in a worn, brocaded, leather vest over a weathered shirt and leather trousers, the interloper accosted Fortunato and pressed a saber against his throat. A few feet away hidden more firmly in shadow, another interloper cocked a pistol. "We're here for the child by your feet."_

_"And why should I care about what you're here for?" Fortunato scowled, his fingers itching with the desire to disembowel the man holding the saber and the other hiding in the darkness. He restrained himself, though, and instead leered at the first man while keeping his ears keen on the other's movement. His eyes widened when the sound of the second man's breathing stopped and mere moments later a pistol was pressed against his skull. He bristled._

_"...Seems like this cloak does work." The second man drawled, a tinge of amusement in his voice. He lowered the hood of the donkey skin cloak he wore, his gray eyes staring at Fortunato without a hint of fear. The same couldn't be said for the man brandishing the saber - Fortunato could feel the blade pressed against his throat shaking slightly and hear the man's rapid heartbeat._

_"Kidd, what should we do…?" The man holding the saber started to ask, tensing and struggling to keep his hand steady once he noticed how it shook. To his credit, his fear was not audible in his voice. "We have the cloak and chest, we don't need…."_

_"...hm, Fortunato, was it?" Kidd spoke after a pause, ignoring his comrade. He jerked his head towards Montresor's corpse. "That's what he called you, anyway. Doesn't matter." Kidd shrugged, taking off the cloak and tossing it over Isobelle who was shivering, no longer unconscious just pretending to be. As he did so, the gilded amulet he wore about his neck glittered beneath the sparse lighting. "...I just want to know if you're interested in attaining wealth and power beyond anything you've ever dreamed."_

_Fortunato remained quiet, hatred etched on his face once he realized he could no longer smell or see Isobelle, the donkey skin cloak shielding her from his senses._

_Kidd lowered his pistol, taking Fortunato's silence as interest. "Have you ever heard of the Hand of Nemesis?"_

~~

Storybrooke, Present:

The room lit solely by the rays of sunlight peeking through the windows and devoid of any warmth; its walls a rich mahogany that bizarrely showed no sign of dust or age, neither did its floor. The only sign of life was a raven perched atop a large desk, its coal eyes peering down at the papers spread over the wooden surface.

It remained focused on the papers even as a cloud of dust and ash stirred up across the room; within moments the ashen cloud shifted into an humanoid shape, and the raven fluttered up from the desk. It swiftly flew away, disappearing into the shadows clinging to the walls.

Sharp red eyes opened slowly as Fortunato reformed from the ash and dust; after he regained his form he glanced at the desk. Approaching the desk, he took out his tanto and laid it on top of the papers, his cold eyes gazing at the gilded scarab-skull emblem etched on the blade. Its golden hue tinged red with blood.

"I see you're as good as you claimed." Said a haughty voice from the doorway, its owner a slightly wizened man with a wintry gleam in his eyes. There was no mirth in the man's face nor in his regal posture as he stepped into the room. "And as ruthless."

Fortunato simply nodded, listening to the man stroll through the room. The corners of his lips twitched, annoyed by the man's leisurely gait.

"I thought when you and your brethren suddenly ceased all activity back before the curse that I was out of luck getting what I desired." The man stopped briefly to observe the room's sparse, but elegantly crafted decor. "...I take it you imbued that dagger with the potion I provided before you stabbed the Dark One's wife?"

"Yes. She'll be completely barren." Fortunato drawled, keenly aware of the wizened man's breathing. His mouth twisted into a smirk, his eyes gleaming listening to the man's heartbeat. "...just like your wife was."

"..." King George glowered at Fortunato's back at the snide comment, before taking out a small gemstone the hue of a brilliant sunset. "Here. This is what you wanted - one of my wife's ancestors received it directly from Lady Isobelle centuries ago. It should help re-enchant her magic chest. You just have to figure out where it got to."

George placed the gemstone on the table and then turned to leave, pausing to glance at the papers strewn over the desk. A variety of papers of differing quality and age, some thin like the paper manufactured in the non-magic land outside Storybrooke; others thicker like the kind handmade in the Enchanted Forest. One in particular caught his eye and after a glance towards Fortunato, who had picked up the gemstone and was examining it, George pilfered the page. Tucking it in his pocket, he continued on his way out of the room, missing the small smirk on the assassin's face.


	16. Respite

### Chapter Sixteen: Respite

"Shh. Shh. It's okay, Sadie. Your mom's going to come back soon." Snow White crooned, rocking her granddaughter in her arms. Only minutes after Emma had left the five-day-old with Snow in order to safely help Regina fight some new threat to the town, Sadie had started bawling. Snow smiled down at her granddaughter as the newborn quieted down a bit. "Grandma is going to warm you up some delicious milk and then sing you a lullaby."

Quieted by her grandma's soothing voice, Sadie's wide blue eyes gazed at Snow and her tiny arms reached out to Snow's ebony hair. Snow beamed down at Sadie as the latter's tiny hands touched her hair, and she opened her mouth to say something but froze. Her eyes widened as she felt her hair growing rapidly to the length it was at before Storybrooke.

_'What the…?'_ Gaped Snow as she hurried to the closest reflective surface to see her newly grown out hair. Sadie burbled and put her hand in her mouth while Snow stared flabbergasted at her reflection in the kitchen sink. Tentatively she touched her hair, proving it real, and then shifted her gaze to Sadie. "Did you…?"

Sadie simply giggled and burbled, her brilliant blue eyes smiling at her grandmother. Reaching out again, her tiny hand grabbed a bit of Snow's hair; seconds later the ebony locks where shrinking back to their previous length.

"Magic...you have magic." Snow stammered, surprise, delight, and trepidation rushing through her. Before she could say or do anything else, her four year old son came running into the kitchen, freshly woken from a nap.

"Mommy, can I hold the baby?" Neal mumbled, still a bit groggy from just waking. He beamed and held out his arms, delighted by his baby niece. "I wanna hold."

Snow smiled warmly at her son, shaking her head. "Sadie is too little, she can't be held too roughly or tightly or dropped." She paused at little Neal's pouting. "But you can help mommy watch her. Could you go get the diaper bag Emma brought over? It's on the couch."

"Uh-um." Neal nodded and hurried off to get the bag, eager to help watch his niece. He paused when he reached the couch and a stranger was standing there, dressed in a donkey skin cloak.

Rocking a fussy Sadie in her arms, Snow glanced up towards the couch to check on Neal, and tensed at sight of the cloaked stranger. "Who are you?!" She demanded, holding her granddaughter protectively while gesturing towards her son to come to her.

The cloaked figure just turned its head towards Snow, a mask obscuring its face. It stared at Snow and then at the baby in her arms, its own body seemed to tense up upon seeing Sadie.

"Neal, come towards me." Snow called her son, grateful that the stranger was ignoring him, but uneasy at the intensity with which the stranger stared at Sadie. Recognizing the worried tone in his mother's voice, Neal hurried back to the kitchen without the diaper bag. He paused midway, remembering he was sent to get the bag, and returned to the couch. "Neal, just leave…."

Hurrying to get the bag, oblivious to the possible danger the stranger posed, Neal tripped and fell onto the stranger's feet. The stranger glanced down at the four-year-old, still silent, even as Neal apologized on reflex and climbed to his feet. There were a few awkward seconds as the stranger gazed down at the four year old and the boy returned the stare. It ended when the stranger grabbed the diaper bag and knelt down to hand it to Neal.

"Thank you." Neal mumbled and then hurried back to his mother, missing the wary and discerning expression on her face in his exuberance to help. Grinning and holding out the bag for Snow to take, Neal gazed up at his mother and niece. His happy smile faltered a little when Snow failed to take the diaper bag for a few moments. "Mommy?"

"Yes. Thank you." Snow mumbled and took the bag from her son, glancing briefly away from the stranger. When her gaze turned back to the couch, the stranger was gone.

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_Centuries Ago:_

_"The Hand of Nemesis?" Fortunato leered at Kidd, curious about the man more than his words. "Sounds like something out of a legend or myth. Or fairy tale." He scowled when the man holding the saber gave a short, muffled laugh. It sounded more like a cough to an untrained ear, but Fortunato detected the difference in tone easily. His sense of hearing as keen as his sense of smell. He growled. "Did I say something funny?"_

_"Nn-no." The man mumbled, the saber in his hand shaking even more as Fortunato's fiery crimson eyes bore into him._

_"Actually, yeah." Kidd replied, shrugging when his partner tensed in terror of Fortunato. "If you knew what land I picked my friend up in, you'd find your words hilarious." He nodded towards the other man, his own gaze studying Fortunato sans fear. "Brennan here is from a land of fairytales and magic. And this land we're in now is one of several story realms closest to the realm of Nemesis."_

_Fortunato opened his mouth to refute Kidd's words, but faltered as he considered himself. He had survived behind that wall for too long, and the ease with which he escaped once he heard Montresor was beyond abnormal. Then there was his suddenly keen senses and monstrous craving for blood, and though he was still dressed in a fool's motley, he wasn't an idiot._

_"I….it sounds ludicrous, but I believe you. Here's the rub, I don't care a speck about this Hand of Nemesis or these other realms. I just want you to give me that girl so I can rip her apart before finding her sisters and tearing them to shreds." Fortunato hissed, grabbing Kidd's wrist and squeezing tightly. His sharp nails pierced the top layer of Kidd's leather bracer and suddenly he couldn't move._

_"Ah. So squid ink is still effective in this realm." Kidd shrugged, glancing at his bracer and Fortunato's hand clenching it. "Good to know. And good to know whatever you are counts as dark magic. Now…." He paused, attempting to pry his arm from Fortunato's steely grip, only to fail due to how tightly the bloodthirsty man had squeezed before hitting the squid ink imbued layer. Kidd swore. "….shit."_

_Brennan pursed his lips, holding in a laugh tickling his throat. "...You really didn't think your squid ink bracers idea through." He shook his head and sheathed his saber, lips twitching._

_"Yeah, yeah. Just use a bean to open a portal at our feet. We'll deal with this back on the ship." Kidd grumbled after thinking a moment and dismissing two other possible escapes from Fortunato's frozen grip, both which entailed amputation. Glancing away in embarrassment and thought, Kidd missed Brennan's peculiar expression as the latter took out one of the magic beans from his satchel._

~~

Storybrooke, Present:

Groaning as he opened his eyes, his head feeling heavy though the pain was now just a dull ache, Killian took a second to recall what happened before he'd passed out. Remembering not just that but also his dream, he quickly sat up on his jail cell bed and glanced around for his wife. "Emma? I…."

Killian bristled and climbed to his feet the moment he noticed the gray eyed man glaring at him.

"Finally awake?" Kidd smirked coldly at Killian, watching the caged pirate closely. "I was beginning to grow concerned you…."

"Kidd." Killian growled, interrupting the other man. "You bloody fucking bastard." He grabbed for the cell bars, determined to open his cell and lunge at the gray eyed man. Regina's protection spell stopped him though, preventing him from leaving same as it stopped Kidd from approaching closer. "I remember now. You bloody rammed into my bloody car! You're the bloody reason Gideon…." Killian faltered thinking about the unfortunate toddler.

Kidd simply shrugged, a smugness to him that riled up the caged pirate.

"Why the bloody hell did you do it?!" Killian demanded, his fist itching from the desire to punch the other pirate's face. To strangle him. His blue eyes narrowed and jaw clenched as Kidd appeared to ponder the question. Seeing the expression on Kidd's face, identical to another one many years back when he'd first encountered the gray-eyed pirate, Killian scowled. "You're not going to answer, are you? Just like before. You…."

"No, I'll answer. But first I'm curious, why hasn't the Dark One killed you yet? I'd have wagered that he'd have blamed you for his young son's death and killed you in retaliation. Why hasn't he?"

"What? You…?" Killian glowered, thrown by Kidd's question though it took seconds to glean an answer to his own question from it. "You set me up and fucked with my memory so that the bloody Crocodile would do your work for you?! What the fucking hell?! You….what is your bloody problem with me?!" Snarled Killian as memories of when he first met the other pirate - Captain Kidd - flashed to the forefront of his thoughts.

From the moment of his and Kidd's first encounter centuries ago, the latter had attempted to kill him. Not that odd of an occurrence after Killian became a notorious pirate, but he'd first encountered Kidd only a week after Liam's death. He'd barely done anything as a pirate worthy of a stranger trying to kill him on sight.

"Can't you guess?" Kidd sneered, stepping as close as he could without triggering Regina's protection spell.

"...it's because of my father, isn't it?" Answered Killian after a moment or two, his memory of the crash much more clearer since his dream. His scowl deepened, recalling his father and all the animosity he felt towards the man. He further further recalled seeing his father just before the crash, though whether it was an hallucination or not he wasn't sure. "The bastard did something and…." Killian grumbled, his brain awash with a mix of emotion. "...thus, you want to kill me in retaliation. Bloody hell." He shook his head and clenched his jaw. "If you bloody wanted to kill me, then why didn't you just come at me directly? Why the fuck murder Gideon? He…."

"The child was the target - you taking the fall for it was just an added bonus." Kidd drawled, taking off his gilded skull pendant and holding it in his palm. It started glowing, first its ruby eyes and then the gold itself.

"Wh...argh!" Killian keeled over in pain as the mark on the back of his neck glowed in tandem with the pendant. It was excruciating, like every inch of his skin was engulfed in flames. He swore and tore into his lips, a coppery taste alighting on his tongue. "Fuck! Fucking stop!"

"Why would I do that?" Kidd grinned, bringing the pendant to his lips and started muttering an incantation. The mark on Killian's neck glowed brighter and the pirate's throes of agony worsened, as did his yowls. Both ceased seconds later when the amulet dropped from Kidd's hand and hit the floor with a loud thud.

Killian coughed and drew in a few deep breaths, thankful for the reprieve but confused. He glanced towards Kidd, his body tensing at the sight of the gray eyed man clawing at his neck and struggling. It was the actions of someone being magically choked, and Killian bristled but wasn't shocked to see Gold in the doorway.

"Crocodile…." Killian swallowed and attempted to push himself back to his feet, but was too weak. Instead he sat and caught his breath, reclining against the jail cot. A chill spread down his spine at the livid glare on Gold's face, and he tensed instinctively. It took a few moments for him to realize that the Dark One was glaring murderously at Kidd and not him.


	17. Meandering Paths

### Chapter 17: Meandering Paths

_"Don't you dare…." The habitually calm voice snarled, its owner's cold gray eyes more passionate than he'd ever seen._

_It nearly stopped him from jumping in the portal, fear freezing his limbs for a few moments. Not long, but enough time that he felt small hands grabbing at his shirt hem. And he glanced down at the small terrified child staring up at him with round eyes, her thin form still draped in the donkey skin cloak._

_"Brennan Jones, don't you dare leave here without me!" Kidd hollered, trying without success to tear his arm from Fortunato's magically stilled grip. His face contorted when his companion simply grabbed the girl and the rucksack containing all they pilfered from the Montresors' home, and leaped into the portal. "Brennan! You bastard!"_

~~

It was quiet along the road, Brennan observed, his search for Fortunato having led him towards the outskirts of town. To an almost abandoned abode, except if you counted the raven glaring down from a broken window. Its eyes seemed to pierce him, deep enough to see his very soul.

Brennan stared back at the ebony bird, seeing his past clearly in its harrowing eyes. All his mistakes, betrayals, filled his head each time he saw the raven; each second he felt its glare chilled him. He shook his gaze from it, and glanced instead towards the front door.

"Don't." A voice whispered behind him, and he felt a hand grab his shoulder. "Leave now."

Brennan tensed, a pulse rushing through him and making him feel weak. His fingers trembled as he reached out for the door, his whole being determined to fulfill Kidd's order to find Fortunato.

"Leave." The voice whispered again, its owner clad in a donkey skin cloak that encompassed its full body.

"I can't." Brennan muttered, averting his gaze from the door. His thoughts filled with frustration listening to himself. "If I could disobey Kidd, I would. But I can't. Not while he has the pendant." He sighed and tried moving forward, the stranger's hand holding firmly to his shoulder. "Whoever you are, whether you're Isobelle or just a stranger, get Kidd's pendant from him."

The stranger sucked in a breath, its hand squeezing Brennan's shoulder tightly - if he could feel pain, he expected it'd be excruciating. "...I can't. That could change too…." It growled through gritted teeth, and let go of Brennan's shoulder. Its voice grew harsher, more filled with frustration. Anger even."...much."

Freed from the stranger's grip, Brennan continued forward, stopping only when the stranger sunk a hand in his chest.

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_The Realm of Nemesis: Years Ago_

_The sky overhead a formidable void, as lightless as a black hole, the air permeating the realm thick with the stench of dried blood, Rumplestiltskin leered at his surroundings. Tall, overgrown trees and shrubs towered over him, the sheer quantity of their needle-thin leaves blocking view of the sky. Except for the soundless clearing in which he now stood._

_"Quite the dreary place you have, dearie." He mused and forced the assassin he'd dragged along from the Enchanted Forest to his feet. His mouth twitched hearing the assassin hiss in pain, the soles of the man's feet bare and bloody, as was his back._

_"You're here." The assassin wheezed, weakened and nearly crippled. The result of a week long marathon of torture by Rumplestiltskin after the man's botched assassination attempt on the Dark One. "You got what you wanted, now let me go."_

_"Let you go? Heh." Rumplestiltskin tittered, taking out the heart he'd wrenched from the man's chest. Giving it a tiny squeeze, he watched the assassin wince and groan in pain, clutching his chest. "I'd just as soon crush your heart to dust. You may not know who hired you and your fellow mercenaries, but someone does, and our deal was you bring me to that someone."_

_"It's just up…." The assassin started to point towards a certain direction when he suddenly keeled over, clutching his head and crying out in pain. A scarab-skull mark, identical to the one on the blade Rumplestiltskin had taken from him, glowed a searing golden-white on his bald head._

_Rumplestiltskin blinked in surprise as the assassin stopped breathing and the heart he held disintegrated to dust without him doing anything to it. His eyes widened slightly, his curious and clever brain mulling over the possible explanation._

_"Not quite according to plan?" Someone stepped out from the shadowy trees, his tone chiding and bemused. But also laced with a frigidity - a lack of humanity - that bizarrely bothered Rumplestiltskin. "My sentiments exactly. But no matter." The man glanced down at the dead assassin, his youthful face devoid of emotion. Just a calm contempt. "Death is quite fitting for an end, wouldn't you agree?"_

_Rumplestiltskin simply studied the young man, trying to suss out whether the youth was a lackey or mastermind of Nemesis._

_"No so for a beginning." The youth continued, seemly oblivious to the glower the Dark One gave. "But then you have no clue what I'm talking about. Not yet, anyway. One day."_

_Rankled by the youth's tone, cold and haughty, Rumplestiltskin grabbed the stranger by the throat and growled. "Shut up, dearie. I can easily crush your throat or flay you like that man lying dead on the ground." He squeezed the young man's throat just a bit to emphasize his point. "Seeing as the louse that was aiding me is dead, you're going to take his place helping me find out who ordered the hit on me. So, dearie, w…."_

_"No." The youth said the second Rumplestiltskin loosened his grip on his neck. "I refuse. Help you?" The youth's emotionless glare finally shifted to one of intense loathing, a savage hatred of the man before him. "Never."_

_"Really, dearie?" Rumplestiltskin tittered coldly and raised his hand to magically choke the young man. "I have no use for you then." He hissed and started closing his hand, squeezing the unknown youth's throat. He relished in the gasping sounds the youth man while struggling against the Dark One's deadly grip. Yet seconds before he snapped the young man's neck, the stranger vanished. "What…?"_

_Peering at the now empty space where the young man had stood, Rumplestiltskin bristled, his eyes wide in curiosity and fear. There was no trace of magic indicating the stranger had teleported away, nor was there any other sign that the young man had actually been there. For all he could tell, the stranger had been an hallucination yet how could he have choked such an apparition? He felt himself choking the stranger, he heard the struggling gasps for air the young man made as his throat was slowly crushed. It wasn't an hallucination._

_The air around him grew heavier, the void above him more oppressive, the longer he stared at the empty space. Yet he was entranced, more curious than anything, at this peculiar ability the stranger or perhaps the realm possessed. It was something to study, once he dealt with Nemesis and found out who hired the assassins. A power that could be useful._

_"Who are you? How did you get to this realm?!" Another stranger demanded, this one brandishing a scarab marked short sword. Rumplestiltskin grinned as he turned around and then plunged his fist into the other's chest. He ripped out this assassin's heart and squeezed it to dust. Before the body finished falling to the ground, Rumplestiltskin shouted into the looming forest._

_"I demand to speak with the head of the guild of assassins called Nemesis! If not, I, the Dark One, will slaughter every last one of you pests." His voice echoed through the realm and was greeted by silence. A wide, anger-imbued grin spread over his face. "Guess it's a bit of hide and seek for you pesky assassins. Good. I could use the practice." Rumplestiltskin laughed before snapping his fingers and teleporting to the first assassin hiding in a particularly dense copse._

~~

Storybrooke: Present

"Crocodile…." Killian swallowed and attempted to push himself back to his feet, but was too weak. Instead he sat and caught his breath, reclining against the jail cot. A chill spread down his spine at the livid glare on Gold's face, and he tensed instinctively. It took a few moments for him to realize that the Dark One was glaring murderously at Kidd and not him.

"Did I hear this bastard right?" Gold growled, addressing Killian but glowering at Kidd. Despite expecting to arrive wherever Belle was currently in town, he and Maleficent had arrived in the sheriff station's hallway. Just in time to overhear Kidd claim Gideon was his target and boast about making Killian take the blame for it. His voice trembled from anger as the truth hit him. "Nemesis targeted Gideon?"

Staring at the Dark One through the jail cell, Killian hesitated, unsure what Gold meant by Nemesis, but understanding it was connected to the gray-eyed man. "Kidd rammed into my car five nights ago. Deliberately." Killian sucked in a breath as he tried again to pull himself to his feet, this time successfully. "He…."

Glaring at Kidd, Gold's glower darkened, his fingers itching to simply strangle the gray-eyed man.

"You murdered my son?" He hissed, easing up on choking Kidd just enough that the man could answer him. Yet Kidd refused to answer and simply glowered at Gold and Killian. "You won't talk, dearie? Then perhaps I should simply kill you." Gold's fingers twitched with the intent to snap the gray-eyed man's neck, but then he glowered at the skull-scarab pendant that Kidd had dropped. Scooping it up magically, Gold scrutinized it while holding Kidd in place, suspended slightly off the floor. "Interesting pendant you have here. It's older than any of the swords and daggers carried by your brethren. Including all those I tracked down and slaughtered after your group's last attempt on my life." His lips pulled taut and eyes filled with contempt Gold leered at Kidd.

Years ago, shortly after one of the assassins had injured Belle during an attack, he had sought both the identity of who hired Nemesis as well as where Nemesis' homebase was. While his search for the former failed, he'd found the latter and settled on exterminating every last member of the group.

"I assumed I got every last one of you pesky Nemesis cockroaches years ago. But you…." Gold scowled, thinking about the name Killian had called the gray-eyed man: Kidd. One of the arrivals from the Land of Untold Stories two years ago had listed their name as William Kidd. It was simple to surmise that Kidd had eluded him by slipping into that realm. "You eluded me. And judging by that pendant's age, you're the kingpin behind Nemesis itself." Gold hissed, his glare livid and locked on Kidd, who finally shivered in fear beneath the Dark One's gaze.

"No. It wasn't…it…." Stammered Kidd, his eyes widening at the intense hatred on the man's face. "You got it wrong. I'm not the…."

His eyes wild with anger, Gold simply wrenched the other man's heart from his chest and squeezed - not enough to kill Kidd, but enough to make him hiss and cry out in pain. "I don't actually care whether you're the head of Nemesis or not. You murdered my son, nothing - nothing else matters than me making your death unimaginably painful."

Sitting wordlessly beside the hospital bed, Henry gazed down at Belle, still trying to fathom how fucked up things had become. His young uncle Gideon's death was tragic enough, and finding out it hadn't been a simple accident but an assassination was sickening. It made him want to find some way to use his Author's powers to reverse the past five days. Or if he couldn't reverse that much time, he wished he could reverse just the last few hours.

"...grandma Belle, I…." Henry bit down harshly on his lip, staring down at the slumbering woman. Shortly after Fortunato fled from them, Regina had transported Belle to the hospital to be watched over while they tried to reach Gold. "I wish I could undo this." He swallowed and hung his head, his thoughts shifting back to five nights ago. To the man from the gas station whose car bore signs of being in an accident, and who mentioned a blood price. If he'd confronted the man that night, perhaps questioned the meaning of his words -'blood price' - like his gut had screamed at him to do, perhaps they'd have discovered the truth before the other assassin had attacked Belle.

Scowling at his hands, Henry thought of his Author power, along with the rules and limitations connected to it. He understood the most essential ones: the things he really couldn't do and those he could but at the cost of his power.

"The purpose of the Author is to record the stories, not create them." He mumbled quietly, reminding himself of the Apprentice's caution against abusing his position and power as the Author. Like Isaac had done. But, he realized, unlike bringing back the dead or writing his own happy ending, using his power to change things wasn't impossible nor would cost him his Author power. _'Maybe I could….'_

He stood up and thought quietly for another moment, before leaving the room, determination gleaming in his eyes.


	18. In Visions Of The Dark Night

### Chapter 18: In Visions Of The Dark Night

_Surrounded by towering pines and cypresses, the young woman paced from one end of the small clearing to the other, nearer the edge of a lake. Her reflection on the still water revealed her puffy cheeks and blue eyes reddened from unshed tears. "I can't...but if I don't…."_

_Sadie shivered, wrapping her arms around herself, her ebony hair falling over her face; a few strands sticking to her wet cheeks. The last vestiges of the setting sun illuminated her pearl skin with an orange and rosy glow, and she gazed fretfully down at her reflection._

_Her heart jumped at the sudden rustling noise coming from the twilight darkened trees, and she froze; her whole body trembled listening to the footsteps approaching. She quickly spun around, scowling at the interloper clad in a donkey skin cloak. Her hand was poised to throw a ball of magic at the older woman, but after a brief whispered threat and a glimpse of something in the other's hand, Sadie stifled her spell._

_"Please, don't…." The young woman pleaded, staring at what she could see of the older woman's face beneath the cloak hood. "Don't."_

_"Do what I said and I won't." The older woman replied crisply, before mumbling something after which she disappeared in a cloud of smoke._

~~

Staring blankly in front of him as the vision passed, Gold felt his heart thump painfully and his stomach clench. The voice of the older woman in the vision clear to him despite her face being mostly obscured, and it shocked him to hear its familiar tone without any warmth. It shocked him even more than realizing what it was she held hidden beneath her cloak.

"No…." Gold muttered, stepping away from Kidd without even being aware he did so; all his attention was on the vision and sorting it out. The young woman was Sadie, he recognized her from the previous vision he had of her crushing a heart in front of her parents. As for the cloaked woman...it would be unfathomable for him to not recognize his wife's voice. _'Belle...'_

"...Crocodile?" Killian called out as Gold's hold on Kidd weakened, and the latter reached for the gilded skull pendant. It glowed briefly as the assassin's fingertips touched it, but just as quickly it fell and clattered to the floor. Killian and Gold both jolted a bit in surprise as Kidd was magically thrown against the wall by Maleficent.

The dragon sorceress scowled as she entered the room and magically held the assassin against the wall. Regina appeared in a puff of magic moments later, Maleficent having contacted her shortly after arriving in Storybrooke with Gold. "Appears the assassin you're after is already caught, Regina."

"No…." Regina blinked and slowly shook her head, before noticing the pendant on the floor. Her eyes widened and then narrowed, darting back to Kidd with a hateful gleam. "He's one of them, but he's not the one who attacked Belle."

Hearing his wife's name, Gold drew himself away from the shock of his vision and focused instead on the mayor. His eyes gleamed. "Where is Belle? Is she all right? Maleficent said she was attacked, but didn't have any details to give other than you suspect Nemesis did it…."

Regina hesitated, unsure and reluctant to inform Gold of Belle's unborn child being killed, especially since the mayor suspected that the Dark One didn't even know Belle had been pregnant.

"...what is it?" Gold growled through his teeth and glowered at Regina, still tense from his vision. He bristled as an idea occurred to him. "You didn't lie about my wife to drag me back to Storybrooke, did you now? Because if you did…."

"Of course not! I wouldn't…. Belle and her father were attacked by a Nemesis assassin claiming a blood price, as he called it. He…." Regina took in a breath, observing out of the corner of her eye as Maleficent forced Kidd into the empty jail cell next to Killian's. The dragon sorceress hesitated then, silently debating whether to let Killian out or to wait.

"Well?" Gold hissed, itching to simply go and find Belle himself and bring her somewhere safe; somewhere he could protect her and delve deeper into his latest premonition. "Is my wife all right? Or not?"

"Belle's…she was stabbed, but Emma healed her in time." Regina chewed on her bottom lip, still hesitant. "She's resting at the hospital."

"But...Belle's fine?" Gold inquired, bristling at the mismatch between Regina's words and body language. It was clear the former evil queen was keeping something from him. His whole body tensed and his face twisted into an angry scowl when Regina didn't immediately answer 'yes.' "Tell me. Whatever it is you're not saying, tell me now. Or I will gut…."

"...Did you know Belle was pregnant?" Asked Regina, that the only way she could fathom to broach the topic without further faltering or simply blurting it out coldly. One glance at Gold taking a step back, his face contorted in surprise, and Regina knew he hadn't known. "Of course not, otherwise you would've asked about…." She muttered under her breath.

"Belle's…? I'm going to…?" Gold's eyes widened, shock and delight twisting his facial features. It took a few moments longer for him to register the verb tense and the sympathetic expression Regina wore. "Wait a...you said 'was.' Why did you…." Brown eyes widened and searched the mayor's, reading the cold truth in them. "Belle...was attacked...Her baby...was…? Is the baby…?"

Regina swallowed and made a few false starts answering, before shaking her head. The sheriff station stilled, all sound and voice and breathed gone silent taking in Regina's revelation. "We didn't...get to Belle in time to…." The mayor cleared her throat, eyes brimmed with unshed tears. "I'm sorry."

Horror contorted Gold's lips, his eyes, and he retreated a step. His heart shuddered, cleaved in his chest, and burned like it was being ripped physically from him without magic. And his hobbled leg gave way, making him stumble against the sheriff station desk. "...No…." He inhaled sharply, shaking and clenching the desk's edge until his knuckles were bloodlessly white. "No. Don't you…. you brought me back to Storybrooke to tell me…." He seethed and glared darkly at Regina, teeth clenched and face contorted in a mix of anger and pain and anguish. "...Another child…I lost another…."

"Rumplestiltskin, I…."

"No!" Gold snapped, just inches from his tipping point and plunge into the deepest, darkest part of himself. "Stay the fuck away! You brought me back here just to tell me that my wife lost….that Belle miscar…." Trembling uncontrollably, Gold coughed and felt his throat tightened, unable to bring himself to say the word. "I just...buried...Gideon, and now you tell me, I lost a...another…." He swallowed, overwhelmed and glowered up at Regina. "You…."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Children's laughter echoed ahead accompanied by the squeaking of a swing, and pattering footsteps running up a slide. Eagerly she started towards the playground, the azure skies overhead shifting to a darker teal and then a cloudy gray. A chilly breeze nipped at her as she drew closer, the children's voices growing faint._

_"No! Come back!" She pleaded, running to the now childless playground; her chin trembled when she noticed the disused state of the park. Dust and debris covered the slides, swings, and fort. There was no sign of the children, no footprints or laughter. Her knees gave out and her chest felt like millions and millions of needles were stabbing her. "...please."_

_Collapsing onto the woodchip covered ground, she sobbed and wrung her hands. Trembled and pleaded, gasping for breath between sobs. Her grief continued unabated, the park silent except for her crying. Her chest burned._

_"Please."_

_"Mother." Came a low voice from behind her, both strange and familiar, and she spun around still on her knees, her face lighting up with joy._

_"Gid..."_

_Her eyes widened at the empty alcove that greeted her; nothing there except shadow and gray skies and crisp leaves struggling to remain on their tree branches. She shivered. Her chest burned and she once more collapsed into a ball of grief._

_"Mother." The familiar yet strange voice whispered again, its owner close judging by the volume. She trembled and bit her lip, but deigned to keep her head down, not wanting to hopefully glance towards it to only face disappointment once again. "Mother."_

_It repeated, accompanied by the shuffling - crinkling of pages being turned. Or rifled through. Followed by a ripping noise, as though a page was being torn from a book._

_Sniffling, she peeked up, her blue eyes focusing ahead of her. As she blinked to clear her blurry sight, she noticed a page lain on the gray floor of the alcove. It was an illustration drawn on a page similar - no, identical - to those found in Henry's storybook. Her breathing quickened and she snatched it up, hoping beyond hope that it held some way - a path or a miracle, to getting back her son._

_"Gide...on." She peered at the page, her hands shaking and her eyes blurring. Taking a deep breath, she wiped her eyes and willed her hands to be still a moment. Wide, blue eyes scrutinized the illustration: just an indoor scene of a cradle and a cozy hearth. Simple, quaint._

_But foreign to her memories of Gideon. Or their lives in Storybrooke._

_"Why...?" She choked and flipped the page over, searching for some clue to its meaning or if it even meant anything at all. A blank page greeted her, and she angrily wiped away her tears, near ready to crumble the page and toss it in the fire burning nearby. "...what?"_

_She gasped, her surrounding transformed from the playground to that of the hearth from the illustration. In awe and terror she glanced at the fire, watching the flames dance and crackle. It felt so warm, the room saturated with warmth and comfort._

_"Where am..."_

_A baby's mew interrupted her question, and she spun towards it. A crib identical to the illustration greeted her, and in it a baby waddled snugly in a warm blanket. Her breath quickened as she approached the crib, her heart and arms yearning to hold the babe. Without thought and with a sudden realization that her breasts were swollen with milk, she picked up the fussy baby and started nursing him._

_It felt right holding him as he suckled, her heart lifting from the dredges of despair as she gazed lovingly down at him. It was, she realized, a dream. But everything felt real and familiar, like a lucid dream one had had before, and she was loathed to do anything but bask in it. The suckling babe felt real, the hearth felt real, the cozy cottage felt real. It all felt real._

_It was real._

_She gasped, realizing suddenly what the illustration was and where it was from._

_"No way." Her chin trembled as she glanced back at the page, understanding creasing her brow. Her bright blue eyes blurred as she turned the page over to the blank side. She swallowed, drawing in an unsteady breath as words began forming on the parchment. Two words, repeated over and over._

_Find me._

Heavy shadows spooled around her, and the cozy hearth faded into its inky darkness. The hearth, the cottage, the baby - the shadows ripped it all away. And before Belle could even cry out a plea to hold the child again, everything vanished and her eyes opened to a brightly lit hospital room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sitting down in a comfortable and modest armchair in his study, George reclined in the cushioned seat and slowly drew in a breath. After a moment or two he exhaled just as deliberately and closed his eyes as a sudden wave of lethargy filled him. He rubbed his eyes and sighed. Beside him on a worn table were a few letters, some professional and others handwritten, enough to form a small pile. On top of that pile sat the page he'd pilfered from Fortunato.

Blank and seemly without any beguiling quality except that it was of the same material as Henry's storybook, it sat where he'd tossed it before sitting down. It was as he reclined in his chair that a faint whisper and scent wafted into the room, emanating from the page. And the same suspicion gnawed at his brain now as back when he first caught sight of the page back on Fortunato's table. There was more to the page. The whisper - filled with muffled words that sounded alternatively like either nursery rhymes or shouts of rage - chilled him. It was a child's voice. Forlorn, enraged, lost.

It beguiled him and made him wonder what it was that whispered. Or who. And why.

A sudden creaking of floorboards and a tapping noise at his study door startled him from his quiet musing. Up he rose from his chair, every muscle in him tensing in quiet anticipation. Though hopeful that his connection to Fortunato and what he requested of the well-versed assassin would not be discovered quickly, he wasn't a fool. Grief at the loss of her children - both born and unborn - may delay Belle discovering her new potion-induced infertility, but he had no doubt it would be discovered. And he expected Gold to hunt down the one responsible.

Something George was banking on, as how quickly the Dark One suspected him would answer a question he'd long pondered. It was the very reason why he had Fortunato douse his blade with the same poison that had made his late wife infertile, although tweaked to work without being ingested. Who had supplied his rival with the infertility potion so long ago, and who had given the scoundrel the idea to do something so underhanded and cowardly.

 _'Rumplestiltskin's manipulated so much for so long, it'd be impossible to rule him out.'_ King George narrowed his eyes, standing quietly by his chair with a cold smile on his face. _'Though if this is him at my door, I will certainly have no doubt or regret.'_

"Whoever is there, enter." George called out, standing regally even as he stifled a cough and used the back of the chair to propped himself up. His keen eyes watched the door as it slid open and in stepped a figure, clothed in a donkey skin cloak. He blinked, confused as the figure closed the door behind her and stared at him, her face heavily shadowed beneath her hood. "Who...?"

"Oh? Were you expecting someone else?" The figure asked, a strand of loosely curled chestnut hair peeking out from her hood. Her voice surprised King George further, and he scrutinized her closely, attempting to gauge whether she was who he thought. Noticing this, she lowered her hood and allowed him view of her face, clear of all obstruction.

George drew in a breath, his brow knotted in bewilderment. "You? But you were just…. Fortunato just…." The old king stammered, a sharp pain shooting through him as he gripped his chair, struggling to remain on his feet. Seconds later ice cold hands grabbed his wrists and pulled him from the chair, the suddenness nearly causing him to stumble. He remained standing though, sheer willpower keeping him steady on his feet despite the pain in his chest and weariness in his limbs.

The woman by the door simply scowled at him, and slowly but steadily approached.


	19. Dreamed Of Joy Departed

### Chapter 19: Dreamed Of Joy Departed

Her hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate with cinnamon, Snow White glanced over at Neal playing with his figurines and plushies. And a warm smile graced her lips whenever he glanced back at her, offering reassurance. She felt anything but reassured though as she recalled the stranger who'd just showed up in her living room. The cloaked woman may have left without doing anything, but that didn't reassure her. Not when there was a new threat running around without any qualms against harming children.

Glancing over at Sadie slumbering in her bassinet, Snow sipped at her hot chocolate and tried to settle her nerves. Not wanting to worry Emma and distract her from tracking down Storybrooke's latest threat, she had texted David instead and now waited for his reply. Every muscle in her body was tensed up and her bow from the Enchanted Forest was nearby, in case of another visit from the strange woman or worse.

"Come on." She muttered and glanced at her cell phone, wondering when her husband would respond. Picking it up to send another message or call, she jumped when the front door swung open and the phone fumbled from her hands. It hit the floor with a loud clattering noise. And Snow immediately reached for her bow.

"Mom?! Is Sadie okay?!" Emma called out as she entered the house, David close behind her attempting to reassure her.

"Emma?" Snow lowered her bow as her daughter and husband approached, heart thumping with surprise. "I texted David, why…."

Emma flashed her mother an annoyed look before heading towards Sadie's bassinet, and sighing with relief. "You seriously expect me not to come make sure my daughter's okay after you texted that some stranger suddenly appeared inside the house?!"

"I…." Snow bit her lip, slightly irritated by her daughter not trusting her to keep Sadie safe, but also understanding Emma's worry. Sadie had nearly died five nights ago from being born too early. Not to mention what happened to Gideon. The sudden arrival of a stranger with magic was definitely cause for concern, at least until they found out who the cloaked stranger was. "What about finding these...assassins you texted about? The ones you and Regina believe were behind Gideon's…." Snow bit her lip, fumbling over mentioning the toddler's death. Though such things had happened back in the Enchanted Forest, not to mention out in the Magic-less Land outside of Storybrooke, nothing as horrid as a child's death had ever happened in town.

"Regina messaged us on our way here. Maleficent convinced Rumplestiltskin to return, and they encountered one of the assassins by chance and captured him." David explained while Emma focused on Sadie, making sure the five-day-old was fine and healthy. The worry on her face was more pronounced than any other time over the past few days.

"That means that he must know now that Killian wasn't responsible for what happened. So..." Snow ventured, growing expectant - hopeful - that her son-in-law would be released from jail.

"Well…." David crossed his arms, scowling. A critical gleam in his eyes as he thought of the pirate. It was identical to the same disapproving expression he wore when he first became aware of his daughter's and Killian's burgeoning relationship. "The accident not being his fault, doesn't change the fact Hook was driving drunk that night."

"David." Snow reprimanded her husband, not missing his referring to their son-in-law as Hook rather than Killian. A verbal indication of just how much his acceptance and trust of the pirate had regressed.

"What? He broke the law and endangered lives, just because this time he wasn't at fault, doesn't mean…."

"That's not why I…." Snow replied, glancing towards Emma doting over Sadie across the room. It was evident in her body language that Emma was deliberately trying to ignore David's comments and Snow's.

David's expression shifted to incredulous when Snow grumbled that he said 'Hook' rather than 'Killian' "I'll call our idiot son-in-law what I want. He drove drunk. What if one day he does so with Sadie in the car?! What then?"

Alarm and horror painting her cheeks a vivid white, Emma tensed and held her daughter tight and snug against her breast. David's words filled her, reverberating in her thoughts. Before she could respond, her cell phone beeped indicating a new text. Placing Sadie back in her bassinet, while David and Snow continued arguing albeit in hushed tones, Emma read the text message.

Her eyes widened reading what Henry had written, that he wanted to fix things. And that he planned finding out someway to do so by asking the previous Author Isaac. The last sentence of his message proclaimed that he was going to make things right even if he had to give up his power as the Author.

'Henry….' Emma bit her lip and sighed, rereading the text with mixed emotions. She glanced at Sadie in the bassinet and then at a letter from the hospital she'd received the other day.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Standing in a vacant patient room a distance down the hall from where she awoke, Belle touched her stomach, her lips and fingers trembling as she recalled her dream. Its vividness etched into her brain, as was its meaning. At first muddled by her sudden waking and brief uncertainty of where she was, the meaning of her dream and the page with the words 'find me' written on it was obvious to her.

The child - her child - was calling for her. Calling for her to remember and find him, and the page that once depicted him. Her eyes teared up as she remembered that cottage, its image much clearer since waking. Long since erased along with the rest of its book, that cottage was the home Isaac had written her and Rumplestiltskin. And the child was the one he'd written them.

A child she had never truly forgotten, despite the erasure of the Heroes and Villains storybook. Nor had she fallen fully into her husband's thinking, that the baby Isaac wrote for them was Gideon. The maternal instinct beating within her kept telling her the erased baby and Gideon weren't the same. Although, with all that happened since then, she had thought about the child and its fate less and less.

It pained her now to think that she may nearly have forgotten him entirely.

"I'll find you." Belle whispered, clenching her fists to keep her hands from shaking, while determination filled her moist eyes. "I…."

She paused, distracted by the sound of voices and footsteps out in the hospital corridor. One was Dr. Whale's voice, noticeably harried, and though she was too far away to clearly make out what was being said, she recognized the other voice as her husband's. She chewed on her lip, listening to the familiar sound and found herself halfway to the door before she halted.

_'Why are you running to him?'_ Her inner self chastised, its tone as vehement as that of her reflection in the Ice Queen's cursed mirror years back. _'He left you alone, unprotected, which allowed Fortunato to kill your unborn baby and your father!'_

Belle shivered, her eyes tearing up.

_'He hasn't even talked to you the past few days! Too busy with his own grief. Too busy coming up with ideas to hurt Hook in revenge is more like. You know he'll twist his words and find a loophole to his promise like he always does.'_

She shut her eyes tightly, listening to the inner voice, a few tears spilling from beneath her lids.

_'Give himself the satisfaction of revenge. But what about you?! What about what you want?! What you need?'_ Its tone grew more livid. _'He has the luxury of seeking revenge while you are stuck being the 'good' one.'_

Belle clenched her teeth and fists, considering her inner self's tirade more thoroughly than ever. She wrapped her arms around herself, scowling. "Can't I be the selfish one for once?" She muttered, considering how she felt five nights ago after hearing about Killian's drinking while driving. Though quickly stifled, she had wanted to make the pirate pay. Even now, despite knowing that Fortunato and his ilk were responsible, she wanted to hurt Killian for failing to protect Gideon.

She backed away from the door, shaking from a tumult of emotions: anger, pain, despair, longing for reassurance that she wasn't wrong for wanting to lash out. For wanting to blame Killian, Emma - someone, anyone - for Gideon's death. She had trusted them to watch and protect her son, and they'd failed.

_'I bet they wouldn't have failed if it was their own child.'_ Belle muttered under her breath, her chin trembling. Her eyes blurred with tears, she didn't notice as the patient room door opened suddenly and her husband stepped in.

"Belle!" Gold hurried to his wife's side, relieved upon finding her safe. Denied the satisfaction of crushing Kidd's heart - at least until the bastard spilled the location of his fellow assassin - Gold had decided to check on Belle. Partly to comfort her, and partly to verify the truth about her having been pregnant before the attack. He wanted nothing more than for Regina to be mistaken about Belle's pregnancy.

"Don't." Belle backed away and raised her hands in a halt gesture as Gold approached. Eyebrows oblique and blue eyes moist, her cheeks glossy with tears, she avoided even glancing into her husband's face.

"Belle, I...Regina mentioned you were attacked. That you lost…." Spoke Gold after he tried to approach and hold his wife only to be rebuffed again; his gaze strayed towards Belle's abdomen, his brain and heart burning with hope that the mayor was mistaken. His legs nearly gave out when Belle covered her mouth with a shaky hand and started crying, knowing the truth before she even nodded yes. "No…." He braced himself against the wall, struggling not to break down. It took reminding himself that while his pain at their loss was severe, Belle's was likely worse. He had lost a son - Baelfire - before, and though he tried not to think about it, since he was immortal he always expected to outlive Belle and whatever children or grandchildren they had. Glancing back at his wife, he approached again. "Belle, I'm sorry. I should've...I…."

Belle just pulled away, her shoulders hunched and face downcast.

Gold hesitated, unwilling to force Belle to look at him or let him comfort her. Though he prided himself on his knavish ability to manipulate others simply with words, he could think of no words to comfort his wife. All his responses froze in his throat as he thought of his most recent vision and how it felt seeing his wife's future self threatening the pirate's daughter. It unnerved him to see such a cold and unkind version of Belle, and all he could think of was how to prevent it. He'd wanted revenge, but not at the cost of Belle's goodness.

"Belle, I…." He started to say but stopped, a chill running through him along with the sensation of something tugging at him; tugging at his dagger. Bristling, he instinctively grabbed at the Dark One Dagger, kept snug beneath his suit jacket, and his jaw clenched feeling the heat radiating from it. His eyes narrowed, recognizing the traces of a strong, but not strong enough, summoning spell. One aimed for his dagger. He swore.

"...Rumple?" Belle glanced up at her husband, sensing the shift in his demeanor. When she saw him holding his dagger, anger shining in his eyes, she flinched and stepped back another step. The only thing that she could think of seeing the dagger was Fortunato's attack, and the sharp bite of his tanto as it stabbed into her abdomen. She backed away further, struggling not to hyperventilate as the flashback strengthened, and missed Gold muttering something before leaving; her husband either missing or misconstruing why she pulled away.


	20. Interrogation

### Chapter 20: 

Tightly gripping his Author pen and ink in his pocket, Henry slipped quietly into the small diner at a rest stop not far outside of Storybrooke. His heart thumped wildly, unsure if who he sought would be there, let alone be willing to help him. Of course, since he used his Author power to track down the older man’s location, he was more worried about the latter than the former. 

Spotting the man eating alone in a corner booth, his attention on the small paperback that he read while he ate, Henry hurried forward. Whether because the paperback was enthralling or the older man just didn’t care to notice him approaching, he managed to reach the booth without drawing the other’s attention. 

“Isaac?” Henry whispered, staring down at the former Author, whose eyes widened in recognition. 

His lips parted in uncomfortable surprise and his eyes glancing furtively towards the exit, Isaac tensed. Every muscle in his body geared up to flee rather than get roped into whatever mess or curse or whatnot that brought his successor here. 

“...I need your help.”

“Nuh-uh. No can do. I’m done with your town and the Enchanted Forest. All of it.” Isaac shook his head, his gaze falling on the rotund waitress taking orders across the diner. The sight of her and her proximity to the exit stopped him before he even started to stand. He chewed on his lip a moment before sighing. “You’re lucky the waitress here is scary, otherwise I’d just forget the bill and just….” He shook his head, turning his attention to Henry.

“Leave without paying?” Henry asked as he sat down, cocking an eyebrow when Isaac hissed at him to keep his voice down. 

“Shh. D’you want to get me kicked out and banned? The cook here makes the best sausage and pepper breakfast scramble. Get me banned and I don’t care what you offer, I’m never going to help you.” Isaac hissed, glancing around and tensed until certain no one had overheard Henry’s comment. 

On reflex, Henry opened his mouth to argue that Isaac had brought up running out on the bill first, but then bit his tongue. It would be trivial and a waste of time bickering over such a thing. He sighed. “I need your help. I’ll even pay for your food, if that’ll get you to at least hear me out.”

“My help? You need my help?” Isaac laughed, bemused; and glancing down at his meal, he considered the younger man’s offer. “All right. I’ll listen, but if it involves me getting involved in curses or anything, I’ll need more than a free meal.”

“I….” Henry hesitated, before taking a deep breath and divulging everything that had happened over the past five days. About Gideon’s death and Killian’s arrest, and then finding out it wasn’t accidental, but rather staged by Nemesis. Throughout it all Isaac listened, growing somber after mention of the two-year-old’s death, and even more so when Henry got to the part of the attack on Belle’s unborn child. 

It wasn’t until the younger man described the creepy, crimson eyed assassin that Isaac drew in a quick breath and swallowed, his eyes widened. “This assassin...was he dressed in a fool’s...um...a court jester’s attire?”

Henry thought a moment, recalling what he could about the red-eyed man. “It was faded, but...yes, he was.” His eyes narrowed. “How did you know…?”

Isaac paled, his palms clammy and shaky. It took a moment for him to notice Henry’s suspicious gaze, let alone respond to it. His heart raced beneath his rib cage, frightened. “....Fortunato.”

“Fortu...what?” Henry peered carefully at the previous Author, less suspicious of Isaac due to the fear in his eyes. 

“Fortunato. That’s the man you described.” Isaac explained, pausing as Henry mumbled about not knowing any fairy-tale character with that name. “He’s not from a fairytale. But rather a different sort of realm. Like Frankenstein or Cruella. Though one much more...warped and twisted.” There was a pause as Isaac considered what next to say, noticing with alarm the suspicion growing in Henry’s eyes. “Maybe I should clarify...I know of Fortunato. I never actually met him. I always gave him a wide berth. I know even less about the assassin group - Nemesis - you mentioned.”

“….” Henry chewed on his lip, mulling over Isaac’s statements; not having his mother’s lie-detection ability, he could only assume what Isaac said was true. Even if it wasn’t, he couldn’t risk getting distracted from his reason for tracking Isaac down. He chewed on his lip, grimacing as he shifted the topic back to his reason for being here. “I need your help. Gideon and his unborn brother or sister shouldn’t have died. I want...to rewrite this week so that….” His voice caught and for a brief moment dread gnawed in the pit of his gut. Gritting his teeth, he willed it away and continued. “...I can save them.”

“...Sorry.” Isaac mumbled, fidgeting with his coffee cup before bringing it to his lips. He sipped calmly at the lukewarm liquid, placing it down only after finishing the cup. “But reviving the dead is impossible. Even if you rewrite the past week, Gideon and his sibling would remain dead.” Isaac leaned back, pausing while the waitress approached the booth to ask Henry if he wanted to order. Other than asking for water for Henry and a coffee refill for Isaac, neither spoke until the waitress left to check on another customer. “The most you can do is change everyone’s memory, make them forget what happened or that Gideon existed.”

Henry glared at Isaac. “I’m not going to erase or manipulate anyone’s memory. That’s….” He glowered at Isaac, recalling how his predecessor had abused his power and changed everyone’s story simply because he could. “...no different than what you did.”

Isaac shrugged, his reply halted by the waitress coming over with a coffee pot and a glass of ice water. Smiling cordially at her while she filled his coffee cup, Isaac took a pack of sugar and creamer from a small container on the table. As he stirred both into his coffee, he muttered. “...at least I didn’t erase a child.”

Pulling back in surprise at the accusation and the sharp edge to Isaac’s voice as he said it, Henry placed down his water glass and stared at the older man. Confusion knitted his brow as he tried figuring out what Isaac meant. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Centuries Ago:_

_Standing over a broken bowl, knocked from its pedestal by the cloud of magic that billowed from his golden scarab pendant, Kidd just gaped. His eyes watched as the smoke rose and swooshed from the pendant, twisting into a bizarrely humanoid form sans facial features._

_‘Nemesis hears your hunger.’ The smoke creature spoke, staring at Kidd and then turning towards Fortunato. ‘Nemesis feels your thirst.’ It focused on the red-eyed man for a few moments before turning back to Kidd. ‘Become Nemesis’ sword and you shall be sated. Blood, vengeance, power - all will be yours.’ It paused, its voice gravelly and ethereal. ‘Refuse and become dust.’_

x

Kidd coughed and sputtered in his chair, gasping for air as Regina loosened her magically grip around his throat. After convincing Gold to let Maleficent and herself handle questioning the assassin, Regina had brought Kidd to the sheriff station interrogation room. 

“Answer the question. Where is your fellow assassin?” The mayor growled, glowering at the obstinate man who simply glared back. She magically squeezed his throat again, angry at the smirk on his face; she loosened her hold just enough to stop him from asphyxiating. “Answer my questions or I will hand you over to Rumplestiltskin. And considering that you killed his son, I doubt you’ll smirk during that interrogation.”

Kidd bristled, his usually emotionless gray eyes filled with fear as he thought of the Dark One. Though he hadn’t been there when the imp slaughtered his Nemesis brethren, he had seen the aftermath. The amount of death and destruction Rumplestiltskin had caused to that realm - making it even bleaker and bloody than it had ever been - chilled Kidd. Terrified him enough that he’d fled into the Land of Untold Stories immediately, rather than see if anyone else survived or caring about his vow.

“Judging by your utter terror, you understand what he’s capable of.” Regina released her grip on Kidd’s neck, and instead secured him more firmly to his chair using magical restraints. “So answer. You’re not doing yourself any favors not answering.”

“...you’ll kill me though, whether I talk or not. The Dark One won’t be satisfied unless I’m dead.” Kidd muttered, thinking about the Dark One’s reputation and mulling over his vow made to Nemesis so long ago. He paused and then continued before Regina or Maleficent could respond. “And Nemesis will turn me into dust if it finds I told you anything.”

“...every one of your cohorts, except the one who attacked Belle, is dead, so I doubt they’ll be a threat to you for blabbing. As for us….”

“I don’t mean the assassin group.” Kidd interrupted, grinding his teeth as he thought over which fate would be preferable. “I mean Nemesis itself. The being or creature that….” He trailed off briefly, considering his options, before meeting his captor’s glare with his own. “If I tell you what you want to know, you have to promise to kill me before Nemesis finds out I told.”

“...how is killing you any different than turning you into dust?” Maleficent asked before Regina got over her initial surprise at the request. 

“Because I won’t be dead. I’d be dust - living, conscious dust. Unable to move or die and keenly aware of every passing second.” Kidd hissed, glowering at the dragon sorceress. 

“Sounds like the perfect fate for a child-killer like you.” Maleficent retorted, scowling disdainfully at the captain. 

“Hypocrites, both of you.” Kidd seethed, his gray eyes darkening as he glanced from one one to the other. “How many lives have you two taken? And how many were not adults?” His lips twitched when neither woman replied, and both showed slight signs of discomfort at his questions. “I’m no more a monster than either of you.”

“I….” Regina glared at the man, an angry grimace filling her face. “You’re an assassin, you kill people for money. Besides….” She paused, biting her tongue before glaring at Kidd. His words had rankled her, baiting her to justify her difference from him because she’d changed and made efforts over the past few years to redeem herself. Her eyes narrowed. “You are the monster here. You and your cohort, who only a hour or so ago, stabbed a pregnant woman and killed her unborn child. You either tell us about your friend, where we can find him and his powers now or I’ll hand you over to Rumplestiltskin so he can use his methods of extracting information on you. And I just might let it slip what you told me what would happen to you if Nemesis finds out you squealed.”

Kidd paled, tensing at the mayor’s threat. “I...fine. I’ll tell you. But first understand, unlike myself, Fortunato had a choice whether to kill or not. I….”

“No. Don’t you dare try to say you had no choice when you killed Gideon. You….”

“I suppose up until I entered the realm of Nemesis the first time, I had plenty of choice. But since then the only choice I had was kill or be turned into dust. Motionless, conscious, immortal dust. What would you have chosen?” Kidd snapped, glowering at the mayor and the dragon sorceress. “Anyway, Fortunato always had a choice. Nemesis can’t turn him into dust. Or kill him. How do you kill the undead? And he can reform himself from dust - I’ve seen it.” 

Regina blinked, her scowl shifting into a grimace of disbelief; Maleficent wore a similar expression. “Undead? You’re saying your fellow assassin is some sort of zombie or….”

“More like a vampire. Though one without any weakness to light or fire. Or any other weakness this realm’s literature ascribes to vampiric beings.” Kidd explained, pausing a moment as he thought of the other man - of everything he knew and surmised about Fortunato. His brow furrowed. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The woman in the donkey-skin cloak watched coldly as King George tumbled back into his chair, terrified. His heart in her hand, she squeezed it - not enough to crush it, but almost. She glowered as the elderly man hissed in pain, tempted to squeeze tighter and crush the man’s heart. 

“...because you suspected him...you….” Her jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing beneath her hood. “I….” She froze, her attention pulled from the man by something tugging at the dagger sheathed beneath her cloak. Dropping George’s heart unceremoniously on the floor, she clasped the dagger’s handle firmly and swore. “...the bastard’s trying to summon it already?! But he….”

 _-‘You changed things. You can’t be surprised if things changed with it.’_ A voice chided beside her, its source invisible except to her. _‘Stopping Brennan reaching Fortunato may have been a small thing, but it wasn’t insignificant.’_ The voice paused, vanishing briefly before jumping in front of her. _‘Brennan’s the only one who knows what Fortuné’s chest looks like.’-_

“Exactly...it was supposed to delay the bastard’s summoning the….” The woman mumbled, her chin wrinkling while she thought a moment. “Seems it had the opposite effect. Shit.” She held onto the dagger even more tightly, wondering what to do. “If he’s casting the summon spell now, he’s doing so without using the chest as a catalyst. Meaning it’ll...fail.”

 _-‘Don’t sound too disappointed - you traveled here in order to change things.’_ The voice muttered, its dark tone peppered with exuberance. _‘Stopping Fortunato getting the dagger will certainly change things.’-_

“Yes...But not enough.” She muttered back, a few of her loose, chestnut curls spilling out from under her hood.


	21. The Die Is Cast

### Chapter 21: The Die Is Cast

_Centuries Ago:_

_The air was heavy and fetid, and the sky above a deep, starless ebony; an abyss hanging above the sere forests and lifeless valleys encompassing the entire realm. Fortunato’s nose itched, repulsed by the rancid stench of decay but also craving it. His stomach growled as his thirst strengthened, and he had to muscle up all his willpower not to lunge at Kidd. Caught up in his own bewilderment at the realm, Captain Kidd hardly noticed Fortunato's hunger and simply observed the landscape from their perch on a cliff. It too quite sere._

_“This is the place? This is the land that holds the artifact that will grant us all we could desire? This is what I…?” Kidd glowered, grasping his arm and rubbing the stump end where his wrist and hand were once attached. The bandage wrapped around it was still bloody, though mostly dry - the result of him deciding it was better for him to lose an arm rather than piss off whatever sort of being Fortunato was._

_“What were you expecting? Rainbows?” Fortunato muttered, successfully curtailing his thirst._

_Kidd scowled. “This realm's supposed to be brimming with magic.” His gray eyes surveyed the withered trees and bushes, their leaves needle-thin and a dull gray. The ground itself consisted of dry, crumbling dirt with very few patches of sere lichen and grass. Observing his surroundings, Kidd nearly gagged as the stench of decay mixed with the stale scent of dust overwhelmed him, and he covered his mouth to stave off breathing in too much of the wretched stuff. “Do you see any sign of magic?”_

_Before Fortunato could respond, a chilling chuckle wafted towards them; its origin somewhere below the cliff where they stood. As the red-eyed man shared a glance with Kidd, the chuckle drifted upwards and increased in volume – its owner approaching closer and closer. Gritting his teeth, Kidd brandished his gun while Fortunato bristled and stood ready, his fangs visible beneath his curled lips. The chuckle drew nearer, until it was just beneath the cliff edge._

_“Who's there?” Kidd growled, inching towards the edge to peek down at whatever creature approached. He sucked in a breath when nothing but empty air greeted his gray eyes and the laughter suddenly stopped, only to return, quite loudly, behind them. Both men swiftly turned on the spot, glaring behind them at what was supposed to be the doorway leading in and out of the realm. Instead of a door, there stood a large canvas, as tall as a man and framed with a tarnished silver. “What in the...?”_

_“I'm no expert, but I think you're assumption about the lack of magic in this place was a bit premature.” Fortunato replied nonchalantly, his crimson eyes drinking in every inch of the canvas: its subject and sepia hues. Or rather subjects, as the paint seemed to writhe and twist on the canvas, morphing into various scenes and beings and all manner of beasts, until settling on one._

_That of a cradle by a fire and a large raven perched above the hearth, gazing down though its piercing onyx eyes seemed to gaze directly at Fortunato and Kidd. Its talons wrapped around a dagger, the blade of which was a dark ebony, the fowl sat and stared. Its eyes never blinking._

_Kidd stared back, unable to glance away; the bird’s glare chilled him and seemed to pierce into his very soul. Fortunato though shrugged off the unnatural leer, and instead glanced at other parts of the painting. It didn’t take him long to notice the words written near the bottom of the canvas._

_The Hand of Nemesis._

_Fortunato’s thin lips twitched reading that, the words vanishing the next moment, as did the painting itself. In its place appeared a large golden bowl on top a marble pedestal and filled to the brim with rust-red water. It smelled peculiarly of blood, and Fortunato felt his thirst return. While beside him, Kidd took off the pendant he wore about his neck and approached the bowl, as though compelled by some silent force. Without a second thought the captain dropped in the pendant, and stared wordlessly as the water bubbled around it._

x

Holding the orange-red gemstone in his palm, its tiny and elegantly crafted surface shining brilliantly, Fortunato peered down at it and tightened his grip on his tanto held in his other hand. It too shone, the scarab-skull engraving on its metallic blade glowing a rich crimson. His thin, cold lips twitched as he leered at the gemstone and positioned his tanto above it. The magic of the one fed off the other, building in strength until the air warped and sparked from it. 

“Come on.” Fortunato growled, concentrating on the summoning spell; he bit hard down on his lip bracing himself. The air crackled, the magic growing more and more intense, such that it would eat away the flesh of any normal person, causing excruciating pain. Fortunato merely shrugged, concentrating on summoning the object he sought, his eyes gleaming with anticipation as it started to work. The next moment he hissed, dropping the gemstone and tanto after a powerful shockwave reverberated, dispelling the magic. “...shit.”

“Caw, caw.” Watching the spectacle across the room, a large raven laughed at the scarlet eyed assassin. Perched before a heavily shadowed oil painting, the bird peered at Fortunato with its onyx eyes, observing the assassin’s failure with something akin to glee. 

“Shut up.” Fortunato growled back at the ebony fowl, and bent down to pick up the tanto. As his cold fingers wrapped around its handle, the raven’s laughter suddenly ceased and the air shifted. A chill raced down Fortunato’s spine as both the blade and gemstone vanished in a cloud of smoke. 

“Looking for something, dearie?” Gold hissed, appearing behind Fortunato, the gemstone and tanto in his hands. His eyes narrowed and a snarl twisted his face as he glanced over the two items. It took barely a second for him to sense the remnants of a summoning spell powered through blood magic, and less to realize whose blood was seeped into the tanto. He glowered. “...you stabbed Belle with this. Stabbed her - our - unborn child.” Gold clenched his teeth and slid towards Fortunato, reaching the foolish mercenary within seconds. “...I slaughtered the rest of your brethren simply because one of them injured Belle while trying to assassinate me.” He grabbed the assassin by the throat, his eyes livid and murderous. “What I did to them is nothing compared to what I plan to do to you now.”

“...oh?” Fortunato leered back, a smirk pulling at his lips after his initial surprise at Gold’s arrival. Both the haughty sound and sneer rankled the Dark One, and he plunged his hand into the motley attired man’s chest. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**Outside Storybrooke:**

“What do you mean - ‘erased a child’? I haven’t done any such thing.” Henry protested, denying the ex-Author’s accusation, his face filled with incredulity. “I….”

“You erased my Heroes and Villains book.” Isaac countered, fiddling with the handle of his coffee cup before taking another sip of the tawny brew. Studying Henry closely as the young man did likewise to him, Isaac downed about half of his cup of coffee before placing it back on the table. “Including a character I created just for it.” 

Henry blinked, his lips parted mid-way on refuting the older man. His first idea upon digesting Isaac’s claim was that it was impossible, that it was beyond the Author’s power to create characters. The Author was meant to record stories, not create them after all, so it shouldn’t…. He grimaced, his brow furrowed as he realized the faulty nature of his assumption. Though the Author was tasked to only record stories, that hadn’t stopped Isaac from changing the story when he was the Author. Isaac creating a character wasn’t as impossible as Henry first assumed. “You...created a character?”

“Yeah. A child, who was erased with the rest of the book when you undid my work.” Isaac resumed drinking his coffee while Henry absorbed his words, the younger man shaking his head.

“But...but that wasn’t...the whole book was erased so none of that was real. None of it happened.” Henry mumbled, more to assuage his horror-twisted stomach than refute the other man. If Isaac was telling the truth about creating a character, that meant he had erased a child. Unknowingly, but that did little to counter his unease. Erasing someone - making them never to have existed - had to be worse than killing them. 

“Judging by the horror on your face, you believe me and feel the weight of what you did.” Isaac leaned back in his seat, slightly pleased at the horrified guilt in the younger man’s eyes. One of the best things he’d enjoyed about being the Author was manipulating the heroes into doing something they’d regret. Their emotional turmoil made for a better story. “...I’m guessing you’ll feel even worse if I mention for whom I wrote the child.”

Henry’s gaze, downcast as he pondered how horrible being erased was compared to dying, shot up at Isaac’s supposition. His jaw and body tensed. “...who did you…?”

“Rumplestiltskin. I wrote the child for him, since I couldn’t do much about, well, your father Baelfire.” Isaac replied, eyeing Henry as the young man drew back and frowned. “Before you ask, no the child wasn’t Gideon. Characters written and erased by an Author’s power can’t be brought back so easily. I found that out during my first few experiments as the Author.” He muttered and glanced out the diner window, gazing at the parking lot and the field across the road. 

“How….” Henry started to ask, curious about Isaac’s testing of the Author power and the rules governing it. Despite vowing not to sway from simply recording stories when he became the new Author after Isaac, Henry was anxious to use his power to alter the past few days. To undo Nemesis’ murder of Gideon. Or if he couldn’t do that, then maybe he could do something else, like… ‘Maybe I could write this erased child back into the story. Would that...work? How will grandpa and Belle react?’ He pondered quietly, getting pulled from his thoughts only by Isaac standing up to leave. He grabbed the older man’s wrist. “Wait. Wh….”

“Look, as I see it I made a clean break from Storybrooke and all its drama and whatnot when I left town. I don’t see how what’s happened is my business.” Said Isaac as he pulled his arm away. “Sure, a child dying is a terrible thing but it's not a particularly rare thing outside of your little town. Just watch or read the news.” He gestured towards a newspaper being read by one of the other diners. On its opened page was a photo and blurb about a grisly death of a child nearby. Along with a fire at a motel. “Horrible things happen everywhere. I don’t see you using the Author pen to help fix them.”

“I can’t. It’s imposs….”

“Impossible to change things out here using the Author’s pen.” Isaac interrupted, frowning and shaking his head. “So is bringing back the dead through magic, but you seem intent on doing just that. Don’t get me wrong, looking out for your own family is human and no one can fault you on that. But….” He glanced back out the window, his eyes narrowing at something in the parking lot. The next moment shook his head as though discarding a thought, and returned his attention to Henry. “Anyways, I have plans for today. And I don’t see a way to help you.” Frowning, his teeth clenched tightly beneath his lips, Isaac turned away but then hesitated, as though a silent debate raged in his mind. For a moment he seemed about to say something else to Henry, yet he decided against it and hurried off. 

“Wait, Isaac….” Henry grimaced as the older man hurried away, his own way blocked by the waitress cutting between them. In her hands was the bill and on her face was an unamused scowl.


	22. The Viand Flits

### Chapter 22: The Viand Flits

_Centuries Back:_

_“...you...what did…? Argh…uh….” He muttered, struggling to keep his eyes opened and his mind focused. The bottle of ale fell from his hands, its tainted brew spilling over the worn wooden floor of the shack. He followed next, and as he fell his gaze lingered on the crafted jewelry chest laid on the nightstand at the foot of the bed._

_“Wealth...that’s all you care about.” Isobelle muttered, watching as Brennan collapsed, lulled into the grasp of a sleeping curse. Her eyes narrowed, her lips pursed into a thin line of contempt, she towered above the man. “Seven years and you still….” There was a pause, her body tensing and fists clenching in thought. She glanced out the window towards a cluster of similar huts and shacks, and houses made in the stone ruins of a once prosperous castle. “These people need help. I won’t abandon them. I….” Another pause. “Perhaps one day you’ll understand why.” She muttered and left, picking up the jewelry chest on her way out._

x

Standing outside of George’s house, keeping watch on the entrance and walkway, Brennan scowled. Despite being dimmed with age, his memory of Isobelle and the day she placed him under a sleeping curse was scorched into his brain. There were many things that he’d forgotten about that day and the years he spent caring for her after saving her from Fortunato. 

“Why am I thinking of her now?” Brennan grumbled, itching to leave but rooted where he stood by the hooded woman’s magics. Even before the last word left his lips he knew the answer - it was the hooded woman. Her face and eyes, and even her attitude and posture were reminiscent of Isobelle. Not identical but enough to suggest that whoever the woman was, she was descended from Isobelle. His eyes narrowed. They widened when he heard a twig snapping behind him, and then felt someone grab him, the next moment feeling the chill of a hook pressed against his neck. “...Killian.”

“Shut up.” Scowling, his hook pressed against the other man's throat threateningly, Killian growled. After Captain Kidd had been captured and the truth of the accident five nights ago was revealed, Maleficent and Regina decided to release Killian. And though he'd first thought of going home to be with his wife and child, the pirate had opted instead to hunt down the thing that had taken his deceased father's form. “I have no idea what kind of fiend you are, but you'll regret taking my father's form and helping Nemesis set me up.” 

“Son, I....”

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_The Realm of Nemesis: Before the Curse_

_The last of the assassins dropped to the ashen ground and crumbled to dust, its heart crushed by Rumplestiltskin. The Dark One watched coldly as the last assassin’s ashes joined its brethren, the sight satisfying but not enough to overcome his annoyance._

_“Hard to believe, that not a single one of these fools knew who hired them.” Rumplestiltskin muttered, shifting his attention from the dust towards the rest of the realm. A forest, filled with dried out trees with needle thin leaves, sere and crisp. The ground itself just ash and dust provided little sustenance to the dismal foliage, same with the shadow laden skies._

_Wordlessly taking stock of the now lifeless realm Rumplestiltskin scowled, growing curious at how the realm sustained its forest. It took him less than a minute to pick up the faintest trace of magic emanating from the center of the land, near a cliff overlooking the whole forest. His senses keen, he teleported to the cliff summit. There, placed quite a few feet from the cliff edge, he found a giant canvas, framed in silver. His eyes narrowed, sensing magic from it – a peculiar magic that was foreign to anything he'd ever encountered or that any Dark One ever encountered._

_More than ancient, it chilled him, but at the same time drew him closer, tempted by a mix of curiosity and desire for power. Rumplestiltskin approached the canvas, eyeing its blank surface before reaching out towards its magic irradiated surface. Barely had he reached for it when he unconsciously bristled and backed away, repelled by it both magically and from fear of its origins. “Impossible....” He muttered, eyeing the canvas from a few feet away. “...it'll explain the dreary, withered scenery here, but this is...extraordinary. Is this really that realm? The Unwritten...?”_

_Suddenly there was a rumbling sound as the whole realm shook and the canvas shifted, moving physically closer to him. Its magic irradiating out further, reaching towards him and his dagger, hungry for his magic. He cocked an eyebrow and shook his head, holding tightly to the Dark One dagger. “Sorry, no. This is mine. And....” He paused a moment as the shaking grew stronger, and the magic irradiating from the canvas became more hostile. “...I'll take that as my cue to leave.”_

x

**Present: Storybrooke**

Watching the Dark One’s face as the man pulled out his heart, Fortunato laughed and his sneer grew wider - as wide as a Cheshire smile. His scarlet eyes glowed vividly as he watched Gold glower and squeezed the heart in his hand. The organ crumbled apart in the Dark One’s palm with barely any effort - so little effort that Gold’s eyebrows rose in bewilderment. 

“That’s….” Gold growled through clenched teeth, his dark and livid eyes glowering at Fortunato, who remained standing despite his heart having crumbled to dust. He bristled and snarled. “How are you still standing?”

“How?” Fortunato echoed, his mouth pulled wide in a Cheshire grin. He chortled and laughed exuberantly, relishing the other man’s anger. “Simple. You can’t kill someone who’s not alive.”

Clenching the Dark One dagger tightly, Gold eyed the jester-clothed assassin closely, absorbing Fortunato’s words. His mouth twitched. From the moment he’d accosted the assassin he sensed something off about the man, but once he realized the blood staining Fortunato’s tanto was Belle’s, he'd dismissed both caution and curiosity in favor of slaughtering the fool. “...You’re telling me you’re already dead?”

“Undead.” Fortunato corrected. “I died many years ago, buried and sealed alive behind a wall in a crypt. I sustained myself for a while by feasting on the rats infesting the place, at least one of which was infected by plague. A particularly fatal plague. The Red Death, as the people in my realm called it. Hundred percent fatal.” Fortunato paused, considering the contradiction. “Somehow it killed my body, but not my consciousness.”

Hatred and anger lining his face and lighting his eyes, Gold grabbed Fortunato by the throat. Fist wrapped firmly around the assassin’s throat, Gold quietly considered the man’s words. Having been doubly angered by Fortunato - first by the man trying to steal the Dark One dagger and then upon realization that this fool was the same one who attacked Belle - Gold hadn’t registered the foreign magic emanating from the assassin. Nowhere near enough to be a threat to him, but stronger than every other Nemesis assassin he’d encountered. 

“Interesting….” Gold muttered, his eyes twitching upon noticing Fortunato’s over-pointed, sharpened incisors. Between that and the type of magic he sensed from the assassin, it was clear to him what Fortunato was. Less clear was how it was possible. ‘Vampirism was eradicated from the Enchanted Forest and all other transversible realms long ago. Erased from being, same with all other conscious-undead variants.’

“What’s interesting?” Fortunato hissed and wrapped his hand around Gold’s wrist. Crimson eyes gleamed when he saw how the Dark One flinched at the coldness of his grip. Deathly cold and dry. And rank. 

“You. Your existence.” Gold replied, his brain replete with all he knew about magic and all he understood about the sort of magic behind Fortunato’s condition. “Conjuring and reanimating the dead as will- and mindless puppets has always been possible using dark magic, but what you are is impossible.”

“...a necromancer I met once said the same thing.” Fortunato smirked, his crimson eyes growing a darker shade of red. “Told me I couldn’t be real - I quickly relieved him of that assumption by tearing out his throat.” He sneered, his sharp incisors peeking out from under his lips. Bemused, he leered at Gold and at the Dark One dagger held in the other’s hand. “You, though, won’t need such convincing. You’ve been to the realm of Nemesis.”

“Just you try doing that to me, dearie.” Gold snarled, bringing the sharp edge of his dagger to Fortunato’s neck. “I’ll tear you apart and scatter your limbs across the realms. You can spend eternity in pieces.” He paused, gazing into the undead man’s eyes keen for any trace of fear or apprehension from the hereto smug assassin. When no hint of such revealed itself, Gold’s scowl deepened and his eyes darkened. “You may think you’re impervious to harm, but I wouldn’t bet on it, vampire. As the Dark One I’m well-versed in all manner of dark magic, including that which it’d take to kill someone with your particular affliction.”

Fortunato merely chuckled, his lips stretched out in a cold and bemused smile. Despite the Dark One dagger being pressed against his throat, he stared into Gold’s eyes and laughed. “I doubt that.”

“You’re quite the arrogant fool. I’m going to enjoy destroying you, dearie.” Gold hissed, raising his dagger above them in order to stab Fortunato, its ebony blade radiating dark magic. “This is for Belle and our unborn child.” He growled and swung down the dagger, aiming for the vampire’s chest. 

“Why thank you then.” A voice interrupted, and a gloved hand grabbed hold of Gold’s arm, stopping his attack. The brief pause allowed Fortunato to back away and disappear into the shadows, leaving only a few ashes behind. Furious the Dark One glared at the interloper, readying his magic to expel or kill whoever this new fool was. His eyes widened when he felt his body freeze in place, refusing to budge. 

“What the hell?” Gold growled, recognizing the effects of squid ink and growing even more furious, as well as a tad concerned. His anger darkened eyes glanced at his dagger still clasped firmly in his hand, before returning to glower at the fool who stopped him killing Fortunato. 

With a youthful face, filled with cold beauty that could cause Adonis envy, the interloper stared back at Gold. Not an hint of worry in his eyes, his perfect face void of even the smallest trace of humanity. It took only seconds for Gold to place the young man.

“You...you’re the one from Nemesis’ realm.” Gold seethed. “The strange young man who vanished without a trace.” 

The youth simply nodded his head, a mirthless, smug smile on his face. His eyes, a dark chestnut speckled with a lighter brown, gleamed as though relishing the Dark One’s anger rather than fearing it. It was a look that riled Gold, but also chilled him. Moments later the youth grabbed the Dark One dagger, wrenching it from Gold’s fist. 

“You’ll leave that alone if you know what’s good for you, dearie.” Gold snarled, anger and fear spreading through him at sight of his dagger in the youth’s hand. That gleam in the young man’s face - unless he’d misread it, it was highly likely that this stranger was going to kill him. He swallowed as the youth neared closer, near enough to stab him with the dagger. As the squid ink wore off - mere seconds after the youth let go of Gold’s wrist, it having been on the youth's gloved hand - the Dark One bristled. Eyes darkened with anger and alert with apprehension, Gold watched his dagger in the young man's hand. 

“Oh?” The youth muttered, his voice filled with feigned offense and shock, his tone grating the Dark One, whose face twisted from anger at the youth. “But I thought you said this was for your unborn child.” The young man held up the dagger, gazing at its ebony blade, his words laced with fake surprise. “Oh, you meant your unborn dead child, not your erased one….” He muttered, shrugging pronouncedly in a ‘oops’ gesture before continuing on in the same mocking tone. “Oh, of course, you meant destroying Fortunato was for your child, not that this...Oh, well.” The youth smirked, turning towards a table covered with papers both blank and covered with scribbles. He lingered on the pages, waiting with bated breath for Gold to absorb his words and glean their true purpose. His expectant expression darkened when the older man simply growled, his wit blinded by anger. 

“You’ll regret your mirth once I get my dagger back and rip out your heart, you son of a….”

“No. Shut it.” The youth ordered, brandishing the Dark One dagger. Gold immediately fell silent. The youth shook his head, frowning, though the twitch at the corner of his lips suggested that he was still relishing the Dark One’s frustration. “That’s just unfair to her. Seriously.” He thought a moment. “Though if you wanted to call me a son of a bastard, that’d fit better. Be fairer, even, considering….” His bemusement shifted to cold anger when Gold continued to glare at him, not even bothering to really listen to his words. “...would stabbing you still be considered patricide even though I’ve been erased from the story?”

“Patricide...what?” Gold’s eyes widened, the power of the dagger compelling him to answer despite his confusion. “You’re not….” He sucked in a breath, the rest of the youth’s question breaking through his anger. “What do you mean by erased?”

“Unwritten. You know, like the Author’s book.”

Before the youth even finished his response, Gold already backed away in shock, his expression an unfathomable mix of horror, hope, and disbelief. “You....”


	23. Deep Into That Darkness Peering

### Chapter 23: Deep Into That Darkness Peering

_Realm xx, Time xx:_

_The sky was pitch, an endless void without star or glimmer; without warmth or sound or air. He wasn’t certain there was even a world around him - it could’ve been an endless hole, or some massive space without boundaries. If it was anything at all._

_Or if he existed at all. He didn’t even know that much. All he had as he became aware of his surroundings were specks of memory, swimming through what seemed to be his thoughts. Were they thoughts? Memories? Imaginings? Was the bright and shiny and golden realm glittering in those specks real? Or was it a fantasy to help him endure as he became aware of the bleak and empty realm around him?_

_As he floated along in the void, oblivious to time and motion and feeling, a particular speck of memory eclipsed the rest. He had no words to describe what he saw as he watched it, it simply drew him and filled him with...with some sensation - emotion he had no name for. He just watched and watched, until eventually it occurred to him that the memory was a single moment replaying itself over and over._

_He continued to watch, observing the memory closer until he knew every bit of it. From the soft cradle and blanket swaddling him, to the gentle motion as it was rocked by an unseen hand, and the glow of a nearby fire as it crackled. Even the soft creak each time the cradle was rocked and the sound of someone humming - he absorbed it all, the strange sensation increasing in intensity each time he watched._

_Gradually he realized what the sensation was - longing though he did not know the word. He clung to it, refusing to let go even as the void surrounding him tried to steal it and rip it apart. He’d witnessed the void do that to the other specks of memory floating in his thoughts; not knowing what it meant, he’d simply allowed the memories to be torn. Now, as he clung to the bright memory of the cradle, he discovered a new emotion - loss. It stung, and he desperately fought against the void to save the remaining memories._

_He fought, grabbing all the memories not yet shredded by the void, while still clinging to the first one. Even as the void grew stronger and fought back viciously to destroy every memory, he refused to let any go. Deprived of its food, the void grew hungrier, colder, and before long he found himself losing - the void successfully stole many of the memories. Tearing them apart, until they too were nothing, and all he had left was the first memory._

_The insatiable void tried taking that one as well._

_“No!” He screamed, ripping the memory from the void; emotion burned through every part of him more intense and violent and full than all else he’d felt up until then. Rage, anger. He wanted nothing more to tear apart the void itself and the moment the void latched onto the last memory, he lashed out. All his emotion, everything he’d felt up to that moment spilled into the void, and cut through it with an intense heat and force that expelled the last few memories that void had consumed from the wretched thing._

x

The youth leered at the Dark One, his cold brown eyes observing every muscle twitch of Gold’s as the man gaped back.

“...you’re the one Isaac wrote?” Gold asked, his eyes widening as he studied the youth from top to bottom, disbelieving the young man’s words. At least until he noticed the other’s eyes - dark brown eyes speckled with a lighter brown. They were the same ones that the infant had, the child Isaac wrote him. The youth gestured in the affirmative, grinning coldly. “You...but that’s impossible. I met you before Regina even cast the dark curse. In the realm….”

“...the realm of Nemesis. Yes.” The youth finished, lips twisted into a smirk as he relished the other’s confusion and disbelief, along with the sliver of hope that hung safely back lest it be squashed. “That’s not it’s true name however, as I'm sure you figured out after your visit there.” He muttered, approaching towards Gold, dagger drawn, and grinning when the Dark One backed away one step for each he took. “The Realm of the Unwritten. That’s it’s true name and nature. The place where Author-erased characters end up, trapped in that realm until they lose all sense of who they once were. And become dust. I ended up there after Isaac’s book was unwritten, though I managed to not disappear into oblivion.”

“...no.” Gold muttered, shaking his head, his heart thumping loudly as he eyed his dagger. “Liar. Even if you are an Erased character and somehow managed to come back, you can't be my...the child Isaac wrote. I met you before the Dark Curse, before Storybrooke, dearie. And Time travel magic....”

“Doesn’t even figure into it.” The young man muttered, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “Unwritten characters by definition no longer exist in the Story. I’m not bound by its limitations. Similar to how a reader isn’t limited to starting at the beginning of a book or prevented from skipping backward or forward. It's quite liberating.”

“...you…. You can travel back in time?” Gold asked, curiosity overcoming his suspicion of the youth and fear of what the other would do with the Dark One dagger. The youth simply chuckled, a cold sound that emphasized the undercurrent of inhumanity exuding from his whole being. “Then...you could go back and stop Gideon from dying....” Gold swallowed, his voice breaking as he thought about his two-year-old son. “You could.... If you are my and Belle's child from the Heroes and Villains book, you will help. You....”

The young man laughed, his cold eyes gleaming with contempt. “...Why would I help the brat that made you forget me?” He raised the Dark One dagger up, holding it threateningly. “Made both you and mom forget me?”

Gold glowered, his eyes narrowing and his jaw pulled taut. “That settles it...you can't be Belle's and my son, you're not....” He glared at the young man, whose eyes matched his filled with anger. “You're not kind enough to be Belle's child.”

“Oh?” The youth, about angry enough to stab Gold with the dagger and forget about everything else, bristled but then relaxed. His lips twitching, he clicked his tongue and chuckled. A cold sound that chilled the Dark One. “Well, that would be a very good point, if the Author wrote me as taking after her.” He sneered and stepped closer to Gold, placing the tip of the Dark One dagger against the man's chest while using its power to forbid Gold from backing up. “I could stab you and take your power for myself. I imagine it’d be quite addictive.”

“...no need to be hasty, dearie.” Gold tensed as he felt the blade of the Dark One dagger against his neck, his instinct for preservation overpowering his anger at the youth. He sensed the young man’s bloodlust and anger, mixed together with a voracious desire for power. Whether the youth was his child from Isaac’s book or not, it was apparent that the young man was itching to stab him. “You’re Unwritten. And no longer part of any story. There’s no telling what will happen if you try stabbing me.” He swallowed as the youth pressed the dagger a tad tighter against his neck. “It could destroy you, dearie.”

“...or it could make me more powerful than even you.” The youth countered, his eyes darkening. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Killian, I….”

“Shut up.” Killian growled, a whirlwind of emotion going through his head as the familiar voice fell on his ears. “My father Brennan Jones is dead. Whoever you are - you’re an impostor. And you helped kill an innocent child.” He pressed his hook tighter against the other man’s throat, enough to break the skin. “Because of….” Killian trailed off, his eyes widening as his hook suddenly slipped easily into the other’s neck, but no blood came. Nor did the man show any sign of pain. “Bloody hell?! What….”

Brennan pulled himself out of Killian’s hold and faced his son, the hook leaving a gash in his throat: one filled with ash and a rank stench rather than blood. “It is me, Killian.” Brennan spoke while Killian covered his nose against the ripe stench, gawking at the wound. “Captain Kidd brought me back using a necromantic spell.”

“No. That’s...that’s not possible.” Killian shook his head, coughing and retching from the stench emanating from the gash on Brennan’s throat. “You’re dead. The dead can’t be….”

“I’m not alive.” Brennan interrupted, covering the wound on his neck with his hand. The action thankfully covered up most of the smell, allowing Killian to breathe without gagging. “Necromancy only reanimates the dead. This body...looks just as horrible as it smells under the glamour spell Kidd used.”

“Glamour spell? That means who you appear to be is not you. You’re….”

“I’m not an impostor.” Brennan grumbled, annoyed by his son’s stubborn disbelief. He shook his head, jaw pulled taut as he thought of how to prove or explain the truth to Killian. “I swear. I….”

“Prove it.” Killian growled, grabbing the other man by the collar. “Tell me something only my father would know. Tell me….”

“You murdered me.” Brennan answered, meeting his son’s eyes. “After saying you’d spare me and even securing safe passage for me to flee, you killed me. Right outside my home where my young son, your younger half brother Liam was sleeping.” 

Killian drew in a breath, his body tensing as he listened to the other man. His father’s death was something only he and the man in question would know. Especially the detail about him securing safe passage for the older man to flee but changing his mind, enraged by learning the man had reused the name Liam for his new youngest son. “You…you are....”

“...I resented you for that.” Brennan muttered, scowling as he did so and rubbing the gash on his neck. The magic of the glamour spell was nearly done sealing the rancid odors within itself. “For the longest time, I resented you for killing me. For leaving your younger brother an orphan. I….” 

“You resented me?” Killian seethed, glowering at the other man. His anger was almost enough to forget about the rank stench that had exuded from Brennan and simply stab him with his hook. “You left….”

“I know.” Brennan replied, the gash on his neck fully covered by the glamour spell once more. “I was a terrible father. And a selfish one. And you have every right to despise me. But….” 

“But what? You want me to forgive you?” Killian snarled, his eyes gleaming as he thought about everything his father did. Even his involvement in Gideon’s death five nights ago - if Brennan hadn’t showed up suddenly, Killian wouldn’t have stopped the car in that intersection. “You….”

“No. I...Yes, actually. But not for me. For you.” Brennan replied and grabbed hold of his son’s arm when Killian scowled, readied to shout and lunge at his father. The concern and seriousness in Brennan’s eyes was all that stopped Killian from scoffing at the idea that forgiving the other man was for his own benefit. “You’ve been marked by Nemesis.” 

Killian touched the back of his neck, recalling the intense pain he’d felt when he’d tried remembering the crash. “...you’re talking about the memory seal.”

“It’s more than that. It’s….” Brennan faltered for a few moments, thinking about what to say though he also seemed to be waiting for something. He bristled and gritted his teeth. “Nemesis uses it to mark potential...recruits.”

“Recruit? There’s no way in hell I’d ever bloody join Nemesis.” Killian spat, shaking his head and glowering at Brennan. “I’d die first before I agree to join such...monsters.”

Brennan grimaced. “It’s not that simple. Once you’re marked, Nemesis can use and intensify any darkness in your heart. Hate. Desire for revenge. Greed. If you’re not careful it can infect you and….” Brennan faltered, his eyes widening as he suddenly looked at his hands. The glamour spell flickered and faded, revealing what was beneath: decaying flesh and bone that was slowly becoming brittle. Killian stared horrified at his father as the man’s arms shifted and then shattered into dust. Followed by the rest of him.

“Bloody hell!” Killian exclaimed, horrified as he watched his father’s body crumble into a pile of dust and bones.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sheriff Station Interrogation Room:

“What the hell?!” Regina exclaimed, her eyes watching incredulously as Kidd suddenly seized up and turned to dust; terror barely had time to contort his face before his body crumbled. The mayor grabbed for the man quickly, attempting to use her magic to stop the transformation or slow it down. A futile endeavor, and she scowled as Kidd’s remains formed a pile on the floor. “Damn it!”

Beside her, Maleficent glowered at the dust pile as well, equally annoyed by the sudden loss of their prisoner. Just moments before Kidd had started to tell them about Nemesis’ realm, about how to find it. Only for a mark to start glowing on the man’s chest, one identical to that which had been on Killian’s neck. Though much more potent.


	24. Beauty In The Shadows

### Chapter 24: Beauty In The Shadows 

“Bloody hell!” Killian exclaimed again, scrambling towards his father’s remains, and not quite believing what he’d just seen. Neither did he fully believe his father’s warning about Nemesis and the scarab-skull marking, despite the sinking feeling in his gut. Shaking away his trepidation, Killian knelt beside his father’s remains and hesitantly reached out his hand towards them. 

Centimeters away from touching the ash, he heard footsteps behind him and he tensed. The next moment a cloud of magic enveloped him and the remains of his father, transporting him. When the smoke dissipated he found himself in a brightly lit study, just feet away from a woman in a donkey skin cloak. 

“Who are you?” Killian scowled and climbed back to his feet, his gaze lingering over his surroundings and the woman in the cloak. His eyebrows rose when a sound drew his attention, and he glanced behind him, surprise filling his face at the sight of George tied to a chair and gagged. “...bloody hell. Wh….”

“Don’t mind him.” The woman spoke and with a wave of her hand the wizened, former king vanished along with the chair. “He’s not your concern.” Lowering her mask and hood, the woman approached Killian, her lips forming a cold smile as the pirate gaped in recognition. “I am.” She growled and plunged her hand into Killian’s chest.

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_Centuries Ago: The Enchanted Forest_

_The scent of pine was strong on the breeze that passed through the valley and caused the fields of heather and honeysuckle to sway. Along with the lilies and violets that, once contained in the gardens of a nearby castle, now grew rampant throughout the valley. It was a beautiful sight, especially at this moment with the sun at its zenith and its brilliant rays illuminating the valley._

_It was also poignant, with its ruined towers that stood watch in the valley’s center covered with moss and vine. Its azure masonry grown gray with age, its foundation weakened by annual flooding from rain and the melting snow from the northern mountains. Isobelle sighed, her cerulean gaze lingering on her surroundings. Though it was much decrepit, she recognized the valley from her mother’s stories. Her mother’s childhood home._

_Gazing at the valley just a few more moments before picking up her satchel, Isobelle turned to leave the valley. Following the trail she first made upon approaching the valley, she fell into deep thought and clutched the satchel tightly against her chest. “What am I going to do?” She whispered and sighed, stopping briefly midway down the path to take out a gilded jewelry chest from her satchel. “Now that I know the truth about this, I can’t keep using it. But….”_

_“But your kingdom is counting on its magic.” A voice interrupted, startling her as she hadn’t heard anyone approach. Turning to face its owner a bit too quickly she nearly tumbled, encumbered by the silver and steel plated armor she wore. Before she completely lost her balance, the owner of the voice conjured a log bench beneath her, and as it broke her fall Rumplestiltskin materialized beside her. Close enough for him to catch the jewelry chest that had fallen from her arms. “Careful, dearie, you don’t want to break this. This may well be one of the most coveted magical objects in all the realms. An enchanted chest that can summon and conceal anything.”_

_“I….” Isobelle blinked, studying the strange man standing in front of her. Her cerulean eyes darkened as she watched him, noting the greed in his eyes as he scrutinized the chest. “That isn’t yours.” She said and held out her hand in a ‘give it here’ gesture. “It won’t work for you. It only works for….”_

_“...I know.” Rumplestiltskin replied, his dark eyes shifting from the chest to Isobelle. “That’s why I’m here, dearie. I want to make a deal.”_

x

Present:

Gold tensed, his pulse racing as he felt the Dark One dagger pressed against his neck. Its wavy blade edge cold. “Think...think about it. Stabbing me with that could destroy you. Even if it doesn’t...if you kill me and become the new Dark One, you won’t be able to hide from the Savior for long. Once you do whatever it is you’re here to do, she and the rest of the heroes will be after you before you even know much about your newly gained powers.” He paused, a chill going down his spine as he felt the blade of the dagger being pushed tighter against his skin. “But if I’m kept alive, I can get you what you want without the heroes finding out.”

The youth mulled over the offer, his mouth twisting into a devilish smirk. “Quite tempting. And it would save a lot of hassle...considering what I’m after.” His cold eyes darkened, his lips pulled into a thin and mirthless smirk. “The only drawback is if the Savior and the others find out I controlled you to do it, I'm just as screwed as if I did it myself.”

“Only if you control me.” Gold replied, latching onto the possibility of manipulating the young man. “If we instead make a deal, one where you give me back the dagger and I then get you whatever it is you’re after, no one will be any the wiser.”

The youth stared askance at Gold, thinking about the Dark One’s offer. “That’s an interesting plan...but I'm not an idiot. You won’t get this dagger until after you get me what I want.”

Gold scowled, his brown eyes narrowed and studying the young man closely. As long as the youth had the dagger, no deal they made would matter - and regardless of the truth of the young man’s origins, Gold didn’t trust him. The anger he sensed from the other for him was too palpable, the youth’s bloodlust too great. If he didn’t get the dagger first, he had no doubt the young man would kill him after he retrieved whatever it was the youth wanted. 

As Gold considered his options, the youth backed off a few feet taking the dagger with him. And allowing the Dark One a chance to relax however slightly now that its blade was no longer dangerously pressed against Gold’s throat. 

“Seems we’re at an impasse.” The youth muttered, tapping the dagger blade against his palm and mulling over things. Glancing at the dagger briefly and then back at Gold, his lips spread out into a cold smirk. “Guess it is best if I just kill you.” He hissed and started to approach the older man.

“Wait, wait, dearie. Wait.” Gold bristled and stared fearfully at the dagger in the young man’s hand. “We can use Fortuné’s chest. Here.” With a swoosh of his hand, he summoned a small, gilded chest to him, and offered it to the young man who eyed it curiously. “It's enchanted and can conceal any item for its owner. Lock the Dark One dagger in here while I fulfill my part of the deal, and when I succeed, you'll open the chest.” He paused and watched as the young man eyed the chest, reluctant to put the dagger inside. “I won't be able to unlock it myself. Its magic doesn’t work for the Dark One.”  
“...hm. I see.” The youth muttered, eyeing the chest closely, a smirk on his face. “All right, it's a deal.” He paused a moment until he saw Gold nod in agreement for the deal, before placing the dagger inside the chest and latching it shut; a key appeared in its keyhole the moment it shut, and the young man turned the key, locking it. Once it was locked the youth chortled, his smile widening. “Interesting. You agreed to this deal without even knowing what it is I want.”

Gold cocked an eyebrow, shrugging. “What you really want is obviously not the dagger or to kill me, otherwise you wouldn't have agreed to this deal. You'd just have used it.” He paused, whooshing the chest back to where he’d summoned it from. “The only other thing in this whole town that I care about is Belle, and if you truly wish to convince me you're our child from Isaac's book, you won't hurt her.”

“True.” The youth nodded, agreeing with the older man’s assumption. His brown eyes gleamed with glee though and a quiet laugh escaped his lips. “It's still interesting. Because you see, what I want you to get me is the Savior’s newborn child.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Her eyes red-rimmed and cheeks puffy from crying, Belle walked slowly down the road, her arms wrapped protectively around herself. She couldn’t endure staying a moment longer at the hospital, nor could she bear heading home - not after all that happened. Losing Gideon, being attacked, losing her unborn child. Finding out that her father had angered the assassins who had killed her son and never bothered to warn her, nor mentioned he had once hired the same assassins to kill her husband. 

It was all too much. 

“I wish we left last year.” She whispered, her throat tightening as she continued walking along the road, aimless in her destination. Though one glance around her revealed that she had inadvertently made her way towards Storybrooke’s main street, where most of the shops and the library were. Tears blurred her eyes as she glanced over at Granny’s Diner patio, and remembered Gideon’s first birthday party. Along with the promise her husband had made. He promised they would leave town and travel through the realms, going wherever she wanted. 

A promised trip that kept getting postponed, and that now would never happen. 

“We really should’ve left last year.”

“Indeed, you should have.” A voice growled and a hand grabbed her arm, digging into her flesh with sharpen nails. Belle froze, the tone deeper and more menacing, but unmistakably that of Fortunato. Her eyes wide and round, and her cheeks ghostly white from fear, she stared at the assassin. Unable to move or scream as his eyes bored into her, their crimson glow more piercing than his nails in her arm, Belle shivered. Fortunato held her arms tightly, his nails drawing blood that slipped down the chestnut haired beauty’s arms. Hunger twisted his face, his fangs more prominent than they’d ever been.

“S...s...stay away.” Belle stammered through quivering lips, her heart beating frantically beneath her ribcage as the man who’d stabbed her - killing her unborn child - lowered his mouth to her neck. She trembled the moment Fortunato’s sharp fangs touched her skin: terror stronger than any she’d ever felt before flowed through her. Along with dread and feelings of helplessness, mixed together with anger. Anger and hate for this monster Fortunato who’d killed her father, her unborn child, and who helped kill Gideon. “Stay away!” She hollered and pushed against the assassin with all her strength. To both their surprises it worked and Fortunato tumbled onto the pavement. 

“Well, well.” Fortunato hissed and climbed back to his feet quickly, his crimson eyes gleaming as he watched Belle run towards her husband’s shop. “Seems you do have some fight in you.”

“Stay away from me!” Belle screamed as she ran to the pawn shop’s door and opened it, her hands tingling. Anger and fear welling up within her, she hurried into the shop and locked the door, barely noticing that her shoe had fallen from her right foot. Or that she had stepped on something sharp on the street, which had cut her heel. She swallowed and hurried to the back of the shop, hoping to reach the protection potion her husband had prepared for emergencies. 

It wasn’t until she was in the back room and searching through the shelves for the potion that she noticed her hands. Both were glowing, a pale ocher hue. Her eyes widened, staring at them and the mark which had appeared on her palms - that of a gilded skull-scarab. “What’s…?” Her breath caught, feeling the power emanating from the glowing marks on her palms and spreading through her body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I must say that this fanfic is much different than I first planned it, though I am bringing it gradually back towards where I initially planned. Furthermore, I'm sort of regretting including the donkey-skin cloak wearing woman, whose identity is...well, her presence in the story is just making leading the plot to where I want it to go more complicated/difficult.
> 
> I'm also dissatisfied with the interaction between Gold and The Unwritten Youth (AKA Belle and Gold's child from Heroes And Villains); I had written the scene before I finished the previous chapter (a version of it was written prior to chapter 22), but I didn't know how to continue from it. I guess I'm just at a loss with how to portray Gold interacting with the (his) Unwritten Child, considering everything that's happened so far and that he (Gold) doesn't really believe the Youth is being truthful.
> 
> (For once I am posting the most recent chapter to this story on here and on fanfiction.net the same day. I usually upload on here much later than on my other sites.)


	25. Nemo Me Impune Lacessit

### Chapter 25: Nemo Me Impune Lacessit

_Five Nights Ago: Gold’s and Belle’s House_

_Kneeling beside Belle’s unconscious form, Fortunato paused a moment, his scarlet gaze tracing over the dying beauty’s face and neck. It lingered there a moment before he, without much thought, touched the back of Belle’s neck. As he did so the scarab-skull mark on his tanto glowed, and when he removed his hand an identical mark was left behind on the woman’s neck. Seconds later it disappeared. “This’ll likely end up being useless, but….” He shrugged, the next moment teleporting away in a cloud of ash and dust._

-

Present: Gold’s Shop

“...interesting.” Fortunato muttered, his scarlet eyes full of intrigue as he entered the pawnshop, following after Belle. Nearing the backroom, he grew more cautious with each step, his eyes peeled for any hindrance or trap. The scent of blood tickled his nose, whetting his hunger and he quietly noted the small swathes of blood staining the hardwood floor. His lips curved into a crooked smile upon reaching the doorway to the backroom and discovering that it wasn’t warded.

His eyes gleamed in the sparsely lit room and he leered at Belle, a Cheshire smile on his face that made his fangs much more prominent. Standing in the doorway, he simply watched the woman staring at her hands in shock. The gilded scarab-skull mark on either hand highly visible.

“...When I marked you five nights ago, I never expected you would actually succumb.” Fortunato crooned, his interruption having the expected effect of causing Belle to flinch and jump back. Her eyes darted towards each of the cabinets and drawers, searching for some sort of protection magical or non-magical. But ignoring the obvious. He chuckled, and took a few steps closer. “It’s too late to resist. Nemesis’ mark is….”

“Stay away!” Belle shouted, holding her arms against her chest and trying to ignore the power imbuing them from the scarab-skull markings. It was lulling, the power, and it took all her willpower to resist its pull. Fortunato being so close only made it worse; his presence riled up her anger and hate for those who killed her family. She wanted to make them hurt, make them pay. Fortunato and his cohort, and anyone else who aided the assassin. Even those who simply failed to protect Gideon, she wanted to hurt. Her gut burned with anger.

“...why resist? Nemesis….”

Belle raised her head and glared at Fortunato, her brilliant blue eyes livid. Her fingers started tingling and before she could stop herself, she threw a magic blast at the assassin, shoving him against one of the cabinets. The impact was loud, and as she watched both Fortunato and many of the objects held on the shelves tumbled to the floor, something snapped in her. Anger more severe than ever she’d felt before filled her, and she once more used the power coursing through her from the skull-scarab marking. This time she used it to push and hold Fortunato against the wall; she held him there, denying him any movement while she approached him.

When she was just one stride away, her other hand tingled and a shortsword materialized within it. Her fingers wrapped snugly around its leather covered hilt, as though it was made just for her. Its silver blade shone from the magic imbuing it, powered by her anger and pain. “You….” She seethed, glowering at Fortunato. “You killed my father. Attacked me. Killed….” Her lips trembled, remembering the bite of the assassin’s blade when he stabbed her hours ago. “Killed my chi...children.”

“Kidd killed Gid….”

“No!” Belle snarled, silencing Fortunato. “Your partner may have been the one to….” Her breath caught, thinking about Gideon, crushed and bruised and cold, after the crash. “...but you, you ordered the blood price. You planned to kill me and any child I had, didn’t you?! Just to get back at my father.”

Fortunato opened his mouth to respond only to be choked back into silence by Belle, who magically held him in place even as part of her struggled to resist the urge to squeeze his throat. Or to stab him with the silver shortsword.

“Because of you, I’ve lost my family.” Spat Belle, her chin and lips trembling, and her eyes filled with unshed tears. Struggling against the darkness spreading its poison and magic through her, she grasped the hilt of the shortsword clumsily and nearly dropped it once or twice. Her thoughts focused on her family - within the span of a week, she’d lost them all.

Only her husband remained. But he, she realized with a heavy heart, was likely already slipping back into darkness as he was wont to do in midst of grief and anger. It came so naturally for him, and if she were honest with herself, she envied him that at the moment. Sinking into darkness, letting it consume her and free her from the burden of conscience - even if just for a moment - she longed for that choice.

_‘Who says you don’t have that choice?’_ A voice spoke in her head - her own voice, though with an edge to it. _‘Who says you can’t make that choice? That you can’t be selfish and make someone else pay?’_ Belle flinched, listening to the voice; her chest tightened and the marks on her palms burned fiercer. Their venomous magic pulsing through her. So too did the one on the back of her neck, hidden beneath her chestnut hair. _‘Why are you trying so hard to be good, when the man you love can sink so far into darkness and do nearly anything, and still be forgiven?’_ The voice continued, becoming more beguiling as the marks pulsed. _‘It’s not like he’d love you less if you make the selfish choice. He’d probably like you more.’_ Belle sucked in a breath and bit hard down on her lip, trying to ignore the voice. _‘Especially if you dissect this bastard here.’_ The voice growled, referring to Fortunato. Unable to move or speak, the assassin simply watched Belle, watched as the silent battle waging inside her played out on her face. _‘Rumplestiltskin would readily do it himself the moment he has the chance. Why not do it for him? Crush this vermin before you. This child killer. Crush him.’_

_‘Crush him.’_ The voice repeated and before Belle knew it she was inches from Fortunato, the silver shortsword readied to stab the assassin. She thrust it down, her heart racing in anticipation of plunging through the bastard’s flesh, but she stopped just before the sword touched Fortunato’s skin. Her gaze locking on an object knocked onto the floor. A book. _‘What are you doing? Crush….’_

“No.” Belle whispered, defying the voice’s command, but not out of goodness. Instead something else stopped her hand and caused her cerulean eyes to gleam in cold delight. Her eyes roaming over the book: a collection of stories and poems by Edgar Allan Poe that she had borrowed from the library weeks ago. “Fortunato. Of course.” She muttered, shifting her gaze away from the floor and back to the assassin, a small smirk forming on her face. _‘I don’t have to kill for revenge….’_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The nursery was quiet as Emma placed Sadie into her crib, one of the few pieces of finished furniture in the only half furnished room. The only other fully assembled pieces of furniture were a small dresser with a padded top to make it double as a changing table and an almost empty toy shelf, which she had only started to decorate with stuffed toys. Everything else she and Killian had planned to place in the room was still in boxes or at the store, neither of them having considered their daughter would be born early.

Especially not nearly five months early.

“I love you.” Emma whispered and kissed Sadie on the forehead, smiling as her daughter immediately fell asleep. It wouldn’t last the whole night, but she was thankful that the five day old wasn’t fussy upon being placed in the crib. Unlike the first night being home from the hospital and then the first night after Killian’s arrest. Both nights Sadie had fussed and bawled, refusing to sleep until the early morning. “Your daddy will be coming home soon.” She smiled again and sighed, turning on the baby monitor before leaving the room.

With everything that had happened earlier in the day and the truths that had been uncovered, Killian was sure to be freed from jail. Regina had said as much before Emma had gone to check on Sadie after Snow’s messaging about a stranger suddenly showing up. All that was needed was to make sure Killian was protected against Nemesis, and that Gold knew the truth about who was responsible for Gideon’s death.

As she closed the door to the nursery, Emma sighed and glanced towards her and Killian's bedroom. Every since Killian's arrest, she'd been reluctant to sleep in it despite it being the closest room to the nursery – being in it only made her more keenly aware of her husband's absence. An absence that would thankfully soon be ended, and hopefully never be repeated. Leaning against the nursery door, she continued to stare wistfully at her bedroom door before closing her eyes and listening to the quiet murmurings from downstairs. Her parents, aware and understanding of the stress she was under, especially after Killian's arrest, had offered to stay over to help her out with Sadie. Emma had initially been reluctant to accept the help, mostly due to her father's criticism of Killian and his involvement in the crash that killed Gideon. Tonight though, she was glad to have her family over.

_'Is it right for me to be happy?'_ Emma sighed, grimacing as she thought of Belle and how much the chestnut haired librarian had lost. Not just Gideon, but also her father and an unborn child. Emma couldn't begin to imagine how devastated Belle must be, losing just one loved-one would've been awful in any circumstance but losing three, two of which were children...that was just more than anyone should ever bear. And it made her despise the Nemesis assassins even more. _'Hopefully, Regina gets all the information she needs from Kidd to stop Nemesis and whoever was behind the hit.'_

“...Emma?” Snow interrupted her daughter's thoughts, ascending the stairs quietly enough that Emma hadn't heard her.

“Yeah?” Emma replied, keeping her voice low and stepping a bit from the nursery door so not to wake Sadie. “What is it?”

“I....” Snow faltered, mulling over what she wanted to say. Her gaze shifted from her daughter towards Sadie's nursery, and it was then that Emma noticed the paper in her mother's hand. The letter that Emma had received from the hospital that afternoon, which she had hidden away in a random drawer after reading.

“Mom, what the hell?!” Emma hissed and snatched the letter from Snow White's hands. “You're snooping around through my things? Seriously?”

“I'm sorry. Your brother's going through a curiosity phase and poking into everything he can reach. He found that.” Snow explained, waiting a moment to gauge her daughter's reaction before continuing. “He couldn't really read it of course, so he showed it to me and....”

“And you read it.”

Snow nodded, feeling briefly upset by the angry glare Emma gave her, but shaking it off. “According to that letter, you were very sick that day and....”

“Mom.” Emma glowered at her mother, not wanting to discuss the letter or anything concerning that day. Not even the reason she wasn't with Killian to help watch Gideon that day. “I'm fine now. So just....”

“I know. I know. I just....” Snow drew in a deep breath, her eyes growing moist slightly before she swallowed and continued. “I just want to be sure you're all right. You and Sadie....” She glanced wistfully at the nursery, her heart twinging at the thought reading the letter had brought. “With everything that has happened these last few days, I can't bear the thought that...you were sick enough to nearly...and you didn't even mention it.”

“I'm fine. Mom. All right? It was just a really bad cold or flu....” Reassured Emma, her frustration at being confronted by her mother about the letter lessened seeing how upset the other woman was.

“You collapsed, Emma.” Snow countered, not appreciating her daughter downplaying the severity of her illness. Even if it was an attempt to make her be less worried. “That was the reason you were at the hospital five days ago. And the reason Killian drove despite drinking....” She faltered when Emma bristled and crossed her arms protectively in front of her, the expression spreading over her daughter's face all she needed to understand the truth. “Oh. You blame yourself. You were sick and so....” Snow muttered and sighed, the next moment shaking her head. “It's not your fault, Emma.”

“Isn't it?” Emma snapped. “If I hadn't been sick that day, I would've been with Killian watching Gideon. We would've stood home and not have driven anywhere. The acci....” She bit her tongue, about to refer to the crash as an accident that they now knew was anything but. “If I'd been home, I could've prevented Gideon dying...either by stopping Kidd or healing Gideon. I....”

“Emma. It's not your fault.” Snow reassured her daughter, pausing between each word to emphasize them. “Kidd was determined and...there's no one to blame but him. And whoever hired him and his fellow assassins.”

“I know, but I can't help feeling....” Emma wiped her eyes, swallowing back the sobs threatening to close her throat. “That's not even what's really frustrating and upsetting....” She took in a deep breath, steadying herself. “I was...sick enough I could've lost Sadie. No one at the hospital realized it though, not until after Gold attacked me. I was actually being discharged when Killian called, frantic about Gideon. I....” She covered her mouth and glared darkly at the letter from the hospital, which aside from containing a summary and explanation of her test results that day, contained a curt apology from the physician she'd seen instead of Dr. Whale. “If...Gideon hadn't....Gold wouldn't have attacked me and...I would've been sent home and could've....”

“Oh, Emma.” Snow pulled Emma into an embrace, comforting her daughter.


	26. Fiends And Fools

Outside Storybrooke:

Watching covertly across the parking lot as Henry left the diner and headed towards his motorcycle, Isaac held his breath, lying low enough in his car that the nineteen year old failed to notice him. Not that it was difficult, night having fallen over the area not that long ago, covering most of the area in darkness. He continued watching, not taking his eyes off of Henry until the teenager started his motorbike and drove off. And even then he only glanced away for a moment, just long enough to start his own vehicle.

When he shifted his gaze back, he sucked in a breath, startled by a large black bird zipping in front of his windshield. Every muscle in his body tensed, his eyes wide with some mix of anxiety and dread. It took a few moments for him to settle his heart, the fowl flying off oblivious to his concern.

"It was just a black bird, nothing to worry about." Isaac muttered, grabbing the steering wheel and gazing towards where Henry had driven. Beside him on the passenger seat laid a journal embossed with a gilded skull-bug design on its cover.

_"Is that so?"_ A voice chided him, chilling him and nearly causing him to jump out of the car. It chuckled at Isaac's fear. _"Tsk. That won't do. You know I'm not really here, so jumping out of your car like the devil was chasing you would only make you seem crazy."_

"...Nemesis." Isaac breathed in slowly, steadying his nerves enough to drive. "What do you want?"

_"Nothing. I'm just here to inform you my plan is going along swimmingly. Aside from a minor future aberration."_ The youth gloated, an ethereal phantom version of himself reclining on the back seat of Isaac's car. _"But I'm sure I can persuade her to not interfere."_

"Good for you." Isaac muttered sarcastically, keeping his eyes on the road - though only partly for safety; But instead mostly to avoid glancing at the phantom lying on his back seat.

_"Do you really think getting Henry to write me back into the story will stop me? That giving me a new story will give me a change of heart?"_ Nemesis inquired, bemused by how the ex-Author avoided glancing at him and tried to block him out. But, though Isaac could avoid looking at Nemesis, he couldn't stop listening. Even if he didn't need his hands to drive, plugging his ears wouldn't help in the slightest. Not when the voice was in your head. _"You should know it won't. You created me."_

"...I know." Isaac muttered, bristling; his hands clenched the steering wheel tighter. His attention focused on the road before him, though it was becoming harder to pay attention to his driving. Especially when the youth's voice grew louder, the phantom sitting up and resting its head closer to Isaac. At least it appeared that way.

_"Then why bother?"_ The youth asked, tilting his head, the curious design of the leather journal glowing in response to his curiosity. _"After all, when I succeed, you will also. Your happy ending will return same as my beginning. I'd have thought you'd leap at the chance to have it all back. Everything. That was the wish in your heart, the spark that lit my way out from the void. The same spark which revealed this book to you."_ He gestured towards the journal.

Isaac shivered, closing his eyes as he struggled to ignore Nemesis. The truth in the youth's words stung him, piercing his heart more painful than he'd ever thought possible. A horn bleating drew his attention back to the road, and he just managed to swerve in time to avoid crashing into an incoming car. He swore under his breath, tense from the close call and from the youth laughing at him. "...I'm not going to help you. Not anymore."

_"Why not? You were thrilled at the prospect of helping me just a year ago when I needed aid in delaying my parent's leaving Storybrooke."_ The youth drawled, his eyes shifting towards the pendant. _"You had no qualms about binding yourself to that book, or sacrificing your little feathered friend in order to give me form. So why develop a conscience now?"_

Isaac scowled. "You killed a child! That's why! Your plan...you never once mentioned it required killing Gideon. Not to mention Belle's unborn child."

_"Technically, Captain Kidd killed Gideon. And he was only too happy to oblige, considering he could blame it on Killian."_ Nemesis grinned, before vanishing and reappearing in the front passenger seat. _"As for what Fortunato did...I simply gave him the order to collect the blood price Maurice owed. Through whatever method he wanted. He could have simply killed Maurice. Or sped up my dear mother's pregnancy before killing her and her father, sparing the wee babe. But..."_ He shrugged, his eyes cold and a smug smile plastered to his face.

"You...twisted...evil..." Isaac growled, pulling over to the shoulder of the road. There was no way he'd be able to listen to the youth and continue to drive safely. "You know what that fiend is like. You knew or suspected he would kill the unborn child. You knew. He wants to end the Montresor's line, and he thinks Belle's..."

Nemesis shrugged. _"...You could always have tried stopping him. He was canvassing Storybrooke for weeks, if not months before attacking. And that emblem there,"_ He gestured towards the skull-bug design imprinted on the journal cover. _"It would've negated any protection spell on the town, allowing you in. You could've found him...shown him that journal, had him read the truth in its pages. Hell, you could've warned Maurice, or Belle. Or Rumplestiltskin. Or anyone."_ He paused, allowing his words to sink into Isaac's thoughts. _"You didn't though. Why was that, I wonder?"_

"I..." Isaac covered his face with his hands, a feeling he'd seldom had nibbling away at him. Regret. "...I don't know."

_"Yes, you do."_ The youth laughed and shook his head. _"You wanted to get it back. Your happy ending. The one my nephew took from you when he erased your book. That is what you wanted. What you still want. You forget, even erased, I am my father's son - I know what motivates people. And you...despite the cost, want me to succeed. It's the only way you'll get your happy ending back. Be a famous author. Wealthy. Beloved."_ Nemesis leered at Isaac, his phantom voice gnawing deeper and echoing through the ex-Author's soul itself. _"Now, be a good dear, and help me get my page back. Fortunato let that fool George take it."_

"I'm not even in Storybrooke. Why don't you command Fortunato to get it back if he lost it?"

_"Because he's…getting his comeuppance at the moment."_

Isaac's eyes widened and his throat went dry. "You're saying the Dark One has him? But if that's the case, then he'll know that I…."

_"Oh, don't worry. It's not my father who has Fortunato. But rather my mother."_

"Your...But Belle doesn't have magic and she's good, she won't stand a chance against Fortunato." Isaac shook his head, bewildered by the calmness of the youth. "She'll be killed."

_"No. She won't. Fortunato made a mistake. One he can't escape the consequences of."_ The youth reclined in the seat, a small, satisfied smile on his face.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The cavern beneath the library was wide, filled with rock and shadows, and a stale stench of dust and age. Standing in the middle of the cavern, Belle gazed around, taking in the dark and dreary and cold environment. No one had been down here in awhile, nor would anyone consider coming down anytime soon. There would be no point. That's what made it the perfect prison for the monster Fortunato. All she needed was to create his cell.

"You can't…." Fortunato growled, glaring at Belle and struggling against the magic binds limiting his movement. His crimson eyes gleamed in frustration at the strength of the magic Belle had used - it was stronger than he'd expected.

Other than glancing at the vampiric assassin, Belle ignored Fortunato, instead focusing her gaze on the cavern wall. Searching for the darkest, most obscured corner, one that no one would notice or hear any screams coming from it. Her heart thumped when she noticed the perfect spot, and without a word she raised her hand and blasted open a crevice just large enough to fit a person. Watching the rock crumble, forming a perfect rectangular recess in the cavern wall, Belle chewed her lip, hesitance in her eyes for the first time since stepping foot in the cavern.

"You…." Fortunato bristled seeing the recess, and bared his fangs, struggling more vehemently to escape his magically binds. Centuries old memories flashed back to him, of when Montresor had trapped him in his family crypt. All for some petty reason the man never cared to divulge. "I swear, if you put me in that...I'm going to make you pay. To hurt. To suffer worse…."

"Worse?" Belle rounded on Fortunato, the monster's words sinking into her ears broke through her hesitance. "Suffer worse?! I just lost my children. There is nothing that is worse than that! Nothing you can do could ever be worse than you've already done to me. To my family." She hissed and with a flourish with her hand, pushed the vampiric assassin into the recess. Another swish of her hand, and two sets of manacles appeared around Fortunato's wrists and ankles, shackling him to the wall. "You better get comfortable. You're going to rot in here until you shrivel into a husk as empty and dark as your heart."

"Well…." Fortunato leered at Belle, a smirk on his lips but one without any amusement or mirth or snideness. Just cold anger. "I once commented that your father reminded me of Montresor, but you standing here, remind me of that bastard a whole lot more. I can't see any resemblance to Isobelle Fortuné in you now."

"Isobelle? That was my…."

"Your great, great, great...whatever, grandmother. Yeah." Fortunato stretched his head forward as far as he could, glowering at Belle with glowing scarlet eyes. "I knew her. She freed me from Montresor's crypt. So ironic that her descendant would put me back in a similar prison."

"...she should've kept you entombed."

"Perhaps. But then your story would've been vastly different had she - the first Beauty - not saved the Beast."

"...what?" Belle stared at the shackled assassin, shaking her head in disbelief. "You...you can't be equating my ancestor freeing you with me and Rumplestiltskin."

"Not equating. No. It was more a...precursor." Fortunato replied, his angry countenance fading the longer his interment was delayed. "I don't exactly originate from a realm with happy endings or true love. Or even random acts of kindness. The stories there were more...dark. Cruel. Old-school, grim tales. Not your Enchanted Forest trite, good-always-triumphs shtick." He paused a moment, before resuming upon seeing the look on Belle's face. "I'm not mentioning it to excuse my actions. Just to illustrate that the ability to care for or love someone isn't natural to me. But I cared for Isobelle - she freed me. And no matter how much I wanted my revenge against Montresor's line, I couldn't kill her. I've had the opportunity a few times. But I couldn't." A pause and he leaned his head closer to Belle, his voice much lower. "And I don't know what her feelings were exactly, but she did take the name Fortuné."

"I...I don't…why are you even mentioning this? Why…?" Belle muttered, staring at her prisoner and trying to get her brain to fathom his words and the reasons for them.

"To show that my heart may be twisted but it's not as shriveled as you assume or…." Fortunato sneered and pulled at the chains holding his arms, snapping the left chain and freeing that arm. "...to lessen your anger and with it your magic." He growled and reached for Belle's neck, only to be pushed back against the wall, the beauty's reflexes quicker than his. Before he could do more than growl unintelligibly, Belle sealed the opening with rocks; her magic melding them together into a single slab of stone. As she sealed the seams between the slab and the rest of the wall, Fortunato shouted. "You will suffer worse! I cursed the blade I stabbed you with. YOU WILL NEVER BEAR ANOTHER CHILD!"

"What…." Belle blanched as the rock sealed itself up seamlessly, the monster's words cutting through her and piercing her heart anew. Her chest and gut tightened, denial stuck in her throat. "No...you lie. You…tell me that's a lie. Fortunato! Tell me that's a lie! TELL ME!"

She shouted at the wall, her voice quickly straining from repeated yelling. Her fists growing red with blood and bruising as she slammed them against the wall, trying to get some answer. The magic she'd had moments ago gone, drained away the moment the rock was sealed.

"Tell Me!" She cried again, her voice hoarse and throat sore. But all that greeted her was a brief sprout of laughter and then silence. Suffocating silence.


	27. Dilemma

Lying on a cold, rough floor reminiscent of a dungeon, Killian's eyes shot open. His brain foggy, it took him a few moments and the soreness of his gut to remember about the cloaked woman and where she'd brought him. His stomach twisted and he lifted himself to his feet, while bracing himself against the pain from his gut. The air around him was cold and stale, tinged with a musty stench of mold. The walls damp, their gray cement hue only dimly discernible beneath the sparse electric ceiling light.

_'I'm still in Storybrooke.'_ He muttered, glancing over the cement walls and electric lights. _'Or at least in The Land Without Magic.'_

Glancing down the dimly lit corridor, he started walking forward, his eyes and ears alert for movement. The pain across his abdomen was already subsiding to a numb throb, only to instead fill with dread. It gnawed at him and at the lingering fog around his memory. There was something. Something he was forgetting. Something important.

Killian shook his head and pressed on, unwilling to spend the time trying to remember what he'd forgot. Not when he knew, sensed in his bones that those he loved were in danger. "I need to get to Emma and Sadie. That cloaked…." He groaned and nearly stumbled, his head throbbing as he tried to remember the cloaked woman's face. Her voice. It blurred the more he tried focusing on it, as though it was forbidden.

_-"I've waited so long for this."-_

A voice hissed in the pirate's head, the words distant like an echo of a memory hidden deep away. Killian gritted his teeth, ignoring the voice and the burning pain it triggered across his gut.

_-"...didn't travel...years to...slip by me."-_

The pirate drew in a deep breath, bracing himself using the wall as his gut roiled, the burning sensation stronger. It felt as though someone had repeatedly cut into his skin, not too deep but enough to make moving around a bitch. "...fuck." He swore and paused a moment, slipping his hand beneath his leather vest.

The moment he touched his stomach, he flinched, not just from the sharp pain as he touched his skin, but from the feeling of dried blood. He couldn't see them, but he felt the wounds on his stomach, crusted over with dried blood and pus.

"Bloody hell…." Killian groaned, his head throbbing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_"The Savior's…? You want Emma's daughter?" Gold gawked at the young man, surprised by the latter's demand. "Why? What could you possibly need with a newborn baby?" He asked, already thinking about all the various dark spells requiring a newborn or parts of one. His brown eyes narrowed, wondering which of such dark spells, if any, the youth sought to cast._

_"That is my business. Mine alone." The youth replied brusquely, catching the furrow forming in the Dark One's brow and the glint of trepidation in his eyes. "Or are you having doubts about our deal already?"_

_"Of course not." Gold snapped, scowling at the young man. "I'm simply curious as to your reasons to want Emma's baby, or any baby. Certainly the child couldn't be much use to you, at least not enough for you to give up possession of the Dark One dagger so easily."_

_Listening to Gold, the youth tapped his lips, partly obscuring the gleeful smirk forming there. It widened as the Dark One's furrowed brow deepened and his eyes filled with suspicion. "...so you assume. But this child, Sadie, is special."_

_"Special? How so?" Gold inquired, curious. But to the Dark One's dismay the youth simply shook his head and placed his forefinger to his lips. Seconds after the gesture a cloud of dust surrounded the youth, obscuring him completely, and when it cleared he had vanished. Leaving behind nothing but silence and a single ebony feather._

x

Standing across from Emma and Killian's place, hidden by the shadows on the empty porch of what was William Kidd's house, Gold glowered silently. His eyes narrowed, many thoughts rushing through his head: some dealing with the 'coincidence' of Kidd's house being right across from the hook-handed pirate's, others with how he would manage to take Sadie. Hopefully without bringing suspicion upon himself - at least not until he had his dagger back and could leave for the Enchanted Forest with his full power.

But more than anything Gold thought about what his unwritten son had said. That Sadie was special. That something about her, something she possessed - magic or destiny or something - was worth the young man giving up the Dark One dagger. Worth surrendering his control over Gold, and his chance to take all the power of the Dark One for himself. Even now it chilled Gold thinking about how close he was to dying at his unwritten son's hand. Not since the first time he'd seen Gideon, grown up in Belle's dreams when he was trying to wake her from the sleeping curse, did he feel so horrified. And frustrated. The idea of his son not just hating him, but wanting to kill him, chilled him.

And despite denying and refusing to believe it every second of their earlier conversation, Gold knew the youth spoke the truth. The young man was his son from Isaac's book. A son whose personality was much like his own, cunning and thirsting for power. The only things missing was fear and a soft spot for loved-ones. Which only solidified his familial connection to Gold, as more than himself, the youth reminded him of his father. Peter Pan.

The youth was just as cold as the man-child. If the young man's chin and eye shape hadn't reminded him of Belle, Gold would've suspected he was some kind of trick thought of by the bastard who'd abandoned him. Now it was simply proof that the youth was the unwritten child.

His unwritten child, who wanted to kill him. Who relished the thought of killing him and taking his power. Gold wondered for a second if his own father had ever felt what he felt now. Knowing your own son wanted to kill you…it…. He shook his head, dispelling the idea that his father Peter Pan had ever felt similar to him now. The bastard who'd abandoned him had never wanted him, so it was unlikely he'd have been affected at all by Gold despising him.

Gold though wanted his sons. Always. Even the one Isaac had wrote for him in the book. The erased one. It mattered little that the young man's existence wasn't through natural means, he was his son. And the only child of his that was still alive. The only one he still had a chance to be a family with.

_'But you do realize, don't you, who else he is?'_ His Dark One consciousness prodded, repeating its question despite his efforts to ignore it. 'His name. The name he took, it's echoed in your head since the moment you two spoke.' His imp voice crooned, appearing beside him as an hallucination. Chuckling coldly. _'Nemesis.'_

Gold tensed, his jaw clenching at his Dark One's subconscious' words.

_'That means, dearie, that he's the one who ordered Gideon's….'_

"Shut up." Gold growled, stuffing away the thought firmly inside the deepest recesses of his brain. The idea the most unbearable. The most horrible.

_'Fine. But it makes one wonder, doesn't it? If he can do that to his own blood, what will he do to Sadie? It's not like her young age will protect her.'_ His subconscious chided. _'You don't even know what he wants her for. Not to mention how it will affect your future plans.'_

Gold flashed an angry scowl at the imp hallucination, his eyes gleaming with frustration and a tad bit of wariness.

_'Come on, dearie. You can't hide the truth from me.'_ His imp form tittered, drawing up to him so that he was a mere inch or so away. _'You still want to corrupt the pirate's daughter. You still want to turn her dark for revenge. And for more than just Hook failing to protect Gideon.'_

Gold sunk more firmly into the shadows of the porch, chilled but also lulled by his Dark One subconscious.

_'You want him to pay for every transgression against you and yours.'_ The imp continued, his words followed by a mad giggle. _'Every. Single. One.'_

Listening to his Dark One subconscious, Gold averted his gaze from the house, thinking about his plan and his premonition concerning Sadie. If Nemesis' plan for the newborn was deadly, if it risked the baby's life...that vision, that future revenge of his would be nonexistent. Worse, it would be his unwritten son who'd go dark, ur, darker, and yet another child would lose its life. For what?

"What does he want with her?" Gold muttered, glowering as he thought, trying to understand his would-be son. To imagine what the youth wanted. What, if anything, would be important to someone like Nemesis? Someone with the power to jump in at any point of time. Someone outside the story. Someone….

Someone…unwritten.

His narrowed eyes twitched, his scowling lips a thin line as the idea flashed through his thoughts, as clear and sure as one of his visions. Though it simply increased his befuddlement over Nemesis' actions. "Is that what he wants…to be rewritten into the story? But...why not just go to the Author? Surely Henry would've been able to write him back in. Why…?"

_'Dearie, do you seriously have to ask why?'_ His imp self goaded, making a tsking sound before chuckling. _'Isaac wrote him to take after you. Ergo, he'd want what you would.'_

Gold sucked in a breath and scowled at the floor of the porch without noticing it, realizing what Nemesis wanted. Or rather didn't want. "He doesn't want to lose his power. His ability to transverse to anywhere or when in the story. He wants to be returned to the story, but with his power intact."

_'Hee hee. Right you are.'_ The tittering imp spoke, making a few grandiose gestures before cozying up close to him. _'And there's only one way he can accomplish that.'_

"A powerful reversal spell. One cast on his page from Isaac's book." Gold muttered, his knowledge from his centuries of living and from being the Dark One meshing with his cleverness. "But that doesn't explain why he needs the pirate's daughter..." His eyes widened and he glanced back at the window leading to Sadie's nursery, a sickening feeling sinking in his stomach. "Unless…." Filled with curiosity, and with dread gnawing at his gut, he teleported himself into the baby's room, taking only the briefest of moments to check that no one else was around.

Appearing just a foot away from the crib, Gold peered down at the newborn and visibly relaxed upon noticing she was asleep. He still remembered how quickly he warmed to her earlier in the sheriff station, moved by his grief and paternal desire. Something he couldn't afford happening now, especially if his suspicion was correct.

"Now, now, dearie." He muttered, studying the newborn and debating how to proceed - to prove if his suspicion was right or not, he had to know what kind of magic Sadie had. Something more readily determined by seeing it in practice or testing a strand of hair - neither of which were feasible with the newborn. Babies seldom could use magic even when born with it, and like many newborns Sadie had little hair to speak of. "How to do…."

"Gah….Bhhr." Having woken up seconds after Gold started muttering, Sadie gurgled. Her wide blue eyes, filled with innocence, curiosity, and trust, gazed up at the Dark One. She smiled, reaching out for Gold, not at all afraid - far too young and innocent to know she should be wary. It nearly caused the Dark One to falter and teleport away to figure out some loophole to get his dagger back instead. Nearly.

"Shh. I…." Gold whispered, raising his hand in order to cast a sleeping spell on Sadie, lest she start bawling like the newborn she was.

It was in that moment that he froze and a strange feeling passed over his body. One quite like the times he crossed the town-line into the Land Without Magic. His eyes widened as he gawked at his hand, struggling to use magic but unable. His first thought was that Nemesis must have gotten hold of the chest and took the dagger back, but he quickly dismissed it. He wasn't being controlled, his magic was simply...gone.

"No…." He muttered, nearly giving into panic, until he realized his limp too was gone. His leg felt whole, strong, like it did before the Ogres War. Yet that wasn't…. Realizing the truth before even noticing that Sadie had managed to grab hold of his sleeve, he backed away quickly. The moment the newborn's tiny hand let go, he felt his magic flood back and his leg return to its crippled, but magically supported, state. Staring at the newborn, Gold's heart raced, horrified.

_'Seems Nemesis was right, dearie.'_ His Dark One subconscious blurted, excited and amused. _'Sadie is special.'_ The imp paused, walking to the other side of the newborn's crib, and chuckling. _'This means your suspicion is on the nose as well. Nemesis….'_

"No…." Gold shook his head, his stomach in knots.

_'...is going to steal Sadie's magic and use it to renew his story.'_ The imp tittered, goading Gold. _'You'll once more have a son to dote on, dearie.'_ There was a pause, the manifestation of his Dark One subconscious leaning over the crib and flashing a heartless grin before continuing. _'There's just the one thing...this tiny, precious baby….'_ Another pause while the imp manifestation glanced down at Sadie, eyeing her emotionlessly except for an echo of his heartless grin twitching at his lips. _'...will have to die.'_


	28. Reflections

"No…." Belle muttered, backing away from the sealed wall, her expression horrified. Tears of anger and regret filled her eyes as her cerulean gaze shifted from the wall to her hands. "Come on." She muttered, struggling to summon back the magic that had allowed her to trap Fortunato. "Why…argh." The chestnut haired beauty grumbled, scowling at her hands, her attention so focused on reigniting the magic Nemesis' mark had given her that she didn't hear the footsteps approaching.

"...Belle?" Regina called out, thrown off at seeing the librarian standing in the cavern. Following close behind her was Maleficent, the two of them having decided to search for Kidd's accomplice. A difficult task that had become easier once the women realized the pendant Kidd had was enchanted to track the magic used by his fellow assassins. "What are you doing down here?"

"I…." Belle faltered, feeling drained now that her anger and desire for vengeance was sated. Replaced instead by anxiety over whether Fortunato's claim was true or just a lie. Had he really cursed her to be infertile?

"Belle? What…."

"Here." Maleficent interrupted, having continued forward following where Kidd's pendant led, all the way towards the wall Fortunato was sealed behind. She clicked her tongue, her brow furrowing at sight of the wall. "He's...here."

"In the wall? How did he get there?" Regina grimaced, turning her attention away from Belle and towards the cavern wall. Maleficent shrugged. "Whoever or whatever sealed him behind here used powerful magic to do so."

"Do you think Rumplestiltskin…?" The dragon sorceress said, mulling over the traces of magic she sensed from the stone wall. Neither she nor Regina noticed Belle backing away, at least not until Kidd's pendant started pulling away from the wall. Its ruby eyes glowed fiercely and it pulled against Maleficent's grip, towards the chestnut haired bookworm.

"What…."

"...Ah." Belle gasped, the markings on her palms and neck reappearing, reacting to the pendant. Each line of the mark on her skin grew warmer, until it felt painful, like a brand being scorched into her flesh.

"Belle?!" Regina hurried towards the librarian, her words of concern dying in her throat seeing the scarab-skull mark on the younger woman. A revelation that Kidd made about the mark shortly before he turned to dust pushed itself to the forefront of her thoughts.

_-"Once marked, any completed act of vengeance a potential recruit makes, seals their soul to Nemesis and its realm." Kidd growled, a smirk on his face and his eyes shining with amusement at Regina's question regarding the mark on Killian. "That's why I marked Hook, on the off chance he wasn't blamed and killed by the Dark One for the brat's death, he would have to spend the rest of his life avoiding all possible revenge or be enslaved by Nemesis."-_

"Regina, that mark…." Maleficent gasped at sight of the scarab marking on Belle's hands and neck, thinking the same thing as the former Evil Queen. The one who sealed Fortunato behind the wall hadn't been the Dark One, but rather the young woman wincing in pain before them.

Regina simply hurried to Belle's side, hoping to be able to halt the mark's insidious magic. Though even before checking the chestnut haired woman's hands and neck, she sensed the markings on Belle were far more potent than the one on Killian. Kneeling next to the bookworm, Regina held her hands over the mark on the younger woman's neck and focused all her magic on sealing the mark. Unlike with Killian, the mark on Belle resisted her, its magic fighting back against being contained.

"Ah!" Regina pulled her hand away, hissing in pain, the scarab-skull mark zapping her with a bolt of piercing magic. Her eyes widened, the irises gleaming with frustration and stubbornness. Nemesis magic was powerful, but so was she and she was loathed to lose to some cowardly assassin's magic.

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_Centuries Ago: Enchanted Forest_

_"A deal?" Isobelle muttered, scrutinizing the bizarre being, leery of trusting him. Considering what happened the last time she trusted a strange man - her gaze darkened and her chin scrunched up as she thought about her uncle and the man sealed in his crypt._

_"Yes. One that will benefit both of us nicely." Rumplestiltskin crooned, handing the chest back though he continued to gaze at it greedily. "You use that enchanted chest of yours to summon what I require and I'll provide your kingdom with a chest filled with gold for each and every citizen."_

_"...you'd do that? Provide gold for every one of my people?" Isobelle took in a deep breath when Rumplestiltskin nodded, her heart racing thinking about how much that would help. And though she was tempted to simply agree to the deal, her brain screamed at her to be wary. Nothing could be that easy - the gilded chest she held was evidence of that. It too provided her with gold, silver, and jewels that made her small kingdom the envy of the realm, but at a cost. One she only realized after it summoned to her a unique blue diamond brooch called the Blue Rose, which she knew was owned by a noble in a neighboring kingdom. It was the only one in existence. Upon seeing the brooch in the chest, Isobelle had realized the truth - contrary to her assumptions, the chest only summoned things, it didn't create them. And all the wealth it bestowed on her and her kingdom was in essence stolen wealth._

_Catching both the hesitance and the way the woman stared at the enchanted chest, Rumplestiltskin tittered and slithered up next to Isobelle. "Don't you fret, dearie. Unlike your magic chest, I can create gold from something as petty as straw." Magicking a strand of straw to himself to emphasize his point, he eyed Isobelle and grinned seeing the knight's face light up. The expression evidence that she was close to accepting his deal. "So, do we have a deal?"_

x

Standing beside Sadie's crib, having just finished lulling her back to sleep by conjuring up a bottle of milk for her and feeding her, Gold gazed down at the five-day-old. His brown eyes staring down at her softened watching her sleep, nearly making him forget why he was still there. He needed to take her. To kidnap her and hand her over to Nemesis.

Despite knowing what his Unwritten son planned to do with the unfortunate baby, he…had to take her. Not only to get his dagger back, but also to help his son. Nemesis was cold and ruthless, but he was still his son and his only remaining child. The only one he could actually bring back. After everything he endured in his life and in the past week alone, he couldn't lose another child.

Not even if the cost was the newborn slumbering away less than a foot from him.

_'What will you do?'_ His Dark One consciousness questioned, sitting on the windowsill about four feet from him and the crib. _'You must understand Nemesis' plan and what he must do to renew his story. Sadie's magic is...powerful. But...ephemeral. Its effects only last as long as she can consciously will it.'_ The imp glanced briefly towards the crib and the slumbering newborn. _'Her being not even a week old - that won't be long.'_

Gold ignored his Dark One subconscious, and instead gazed down at Sadie, his thoughts and emotions storming beneath his stoic expression. His darkened heart hissed at him to take the selfish choice, to help his son regain his story and existence. It didn't matter what happened to the pirate's daughter - if her parents had done what they promised they'd do and protected Gideon, he'd still have a living son. Nor would he be facing this choice: to sacrifice a newborn or doom his Unwritten son. He should do what any parent would do and choose his own child.

_'But…'_ his conscience whispered back, arguing against the darkened mass of his heart. _'You know the devastation of outliving a child...are you willing to cause Sadie's parents that kind of pain? Her mother is the mother of your grandson!'_

_'Her mother should've took better care of what was mine then!'_ Gold mentally hissed back at his conscience, mindful not to make a sound that would alert Emma or the Charmings to his presence. The former was already sleeping, but at least one of the Charmings was awake downstairs judging by the footsteps and such. Unless the pirate had returned home sometime in the past twenty minutes or so he'd spent debating whether to kidnap Sadie. Filled with anger as he thought of Killian, Gold made his decision that moment to take Sadie, his darker instincts relishing seeing the pirate's devastated look at the loss of his daughter.

The moment he grabbed Sadie though, he felt the same strange feeling from earlier pass over him, robbing him of magic and restoring his leg. His eyes widened and he gaped at the newborn in his arms, who once more was awake.

"...Not fair." He muttered, his heart racing as he stared at Sadie a few more seconds before visually searching the room. Panicking a bit when he heard footsteps ascending the stairs, he considered leaving with Sadie via the window. This was the second floor however and he would be holding a baby. _'How the hell am I going to do this without my magic?!'_

Sadie giggled and reached out towards Gold's face, recognizing the man as someone who'd fed her. Nothing in her eyes and smile revealed that she considered him a threat, or that she knew she was in danger. All she knew was he had fed her and soothed her to sleep.

_'Why? Why are you using your magic against me if you don't see me as a threat?'_ Gold muttered and shook his head, before laying Sadie back in the crib as the footsteps drew nearer. His magic returned just in time for him to move towards the corner and cast an invisibility spell to conceal himself as the nursery door opened.

David stepped into the room, turning on the adjustable light at the lowest setting on his way towards the crib. "You're awfully quiet tonight." David said softly, gazing down at his granddaughter who he'd expected to be asleep. "Your mommy said you've been fussy and crying almost non-stop the past few nights, but look at you now. Quiet as a mouse." David mused, leaning down to pick Sadie up, planning on rocking her to sleep. It was then that he noticed the baby bottle set on the shelf beside the crib. "That's...not yours."

_'Shit.'_ Gold tensed, realizing his blunder a bit too late. When he'd rocked and fed Sadie earlier to get her to sleep, he didn't see her bottle, so he'd conjured one. Or rather, summoned one of Gideon's old ones and filled it magically with formula. Seeing the alarm rising in the shepherd-prince's face, Gold took a final survey of his options.

If he simply left, Charming would still know he'd been there, or at least suspect. That would lead to questions of why and why the secrecy. And considering how he attacked Emma five nights ago, Gold felt certain none of them would believe his reason was benign. Especially not Emma's overprotective father.

"Who's here?" David tensed, hovering over Sadie's crib protectively as he glanced around, his senses keen for movement. Not that it would help much in detecting someone using magic. "Show your…."

"Shut up." A voice growled, surprising David and Gold, its owner entering the room from the hallway door. A gun in his hand. "I'd gladly put a bullet in your head. Now hand over your granddaughter."

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"Damn it." Regina hissed, nursing her hand, the palm scorched by the scarab-skull mark fighting against her. It'd taken a while and a huge reserve of her magic, but she managed to stop the mark on Belle progressing. Although whether it was solely her doing or the result of Belle passing out and somehow weakening the mark's active magic, the mayor didn't know 100 percent. She did know that, at the moment, Nemesis' mark on Belle was stifled. It wouldn't be controlling or harming anyone.

"That...was unexpected." Maleficent stated, eyeing the unconscious librarian carefully. "Her being marked, that is. Considering what Fortunato and Kidd did to her children, I expected her to snap and attack the bastards."

"Really? You really expected the bookworm to do that?" Regina stared askance at the dragon sorceress, disbelieving the assertion. She shook her head, still nursing her palm. "Belle's a hero, she wouldn't…."

"Tell that to the man behind the wall." Maleficent replied, gesturing towards the cavern wall behind which was Fortunato. "Besides, I've seen even the most saintly of mothers avenge their children in the most brutal ways. It's not just those like us who'd kill or maim to avenge the loss of their child, Regina."

"Well…." Regina paused, considering the sorceress' statement, the next moment shrugging. "True enough. I just never imagine the bookworm…." She grimaced and glanced back to Belle lying unconscious on the cavern floor. "Anyway, we still need to figure out who or what Nemesis is and figure out how to counteract its mark permanently."

"His." A voice snapped, echoing through the cavern, its timbre and cadence identical to that of the chestnut haired librarian. "His mark. Not its, his."

Regina jolted up at the voice, her eyes wide in suspicion and confusion, but before either she or Maleficent could act, they were thrown across the cavern. The impact strong enough to knock them both out just as a woman wearing a donkey skin cloak approached Belle.

The woman glowered coldly, her eyes narrowed as she glanced around, a fiery hatred filling them when she noticed the wall behind which was Fortunato. It switched to a cool indifference when she shifted her gaze to Belle lying just inches from her. Lowering her hood, she grimaced at the scarab-skull fading from the younger woman's hands. "Not exactly to plan, but…" She paused and knelt down next to Belle, her face fully visible under the cavern's semi-natural, semi-magical, lighting. Though slightly creased with age, her face was a replica of the librarian's and her hair the same chestnut hue, aside from one curl that was graying. "...not exactly against it either."

She muttered, the next moment waving her hand and teleporting away in a cloud of magic, bringing Belle along with her.


	29. Temptation

_Centuries Ago: Enchanted Forest_

_Isobelle opened her mouth, ready to accept the deal but then shut it. Chewing on her lips she mulled over the offer, hesitant to accept. Beside her Rumplestiltskin stood just an inch or so away, his eyes flitting from her to the chest impatiently. It was enough to send a chill racing up Isobelle's spine and her stomach to tighten in apprehension; she knew little about the funny looking man beside her, but she sensed danger from him. "I...I'm sorry, but I can't make that deal. I…."_

_"Why the hell not?" Rumplestiltskin seethed, backing away from Isobelle as the urge to strangle her and simply take the chest surged through him. An urge he had to resist. Not from any qualms about killing her, but because he wouldn't be able to use the chest. Ever. Not even if he stopped being the Dark One. Whoever had enchanted it had done so in a way that prevented those who harmed its owner from using it or any object summoned by it. "What if I make it a yearly payment to last as long as your kingdom?" He offered, searching the knight's face for any sign that she would take the deal. His lips twitched and his jaw clenched seeing the woman shaking her head. "I don't…I offer your kingdom untold riches and yet you turn it down? I didn't think such avarice would run through the veins of a knight so beloved by her people."_

_"That's not it." Isobelle blurted and grabbed Rumplestiltskin's arm when he lifted it to whisk himself away. Seeing the desperation in the beauty's eyes, his murderous anger calmed down, replaced by a sense of victory. "I...I can't accept the gold. It's generous, but I can't…."_

_"Why can't you, dearie?" Rumplestiltskin asked curious, his anger dimmed enough that its presence was only evident by an odd twitch of his fingers._

_Biting on her bottom lip, Isobelle stared into the Dark One's eyes, unafraid. "What good is gold when war looms so closely at the kingdom's gates?" She muttered and took out a brooch from a pouch tied around her neck. A brilliant blue diamond cut into the shape of a rose and set in a silver fitting, the brooch glittered beneath the rays of sunlight peeking through the trees. Rumplestiltskin's eyes widened seeing it, recognizing it on sight._

_"That's the Blue Rose, an heirloom of the Legrand family. Crafted by elves, its gem is said to actually be the heart of the last Fairy Queen. It…." Rumplestiltskin sucked in a breath, his knowledge of the brooch coming from both legends he heard as a child and the whispers of the past Dark Ones in his head. Though fairy magic didn't mix well with his brand of magic, the last true Fairy Queen was said to have used pure and primordial magic - neither light nor dark. If he harnessed its power…._

_"Yes. It belongs to Lady Legrand. Unfortunately the chest...summoned it." Isobelle continued, oblivious to the greedy look Rumplestiltskin gave the brooch. "The Legrand's are old friends with the monarchs of all the kingdoms surrounding my kingdom. If they learned I have this. Worse, if they learn how I got this, it'd mean war. War and utter annihilation for my kingdom."_

_Rumplestiltskin fidgeted, struggling to hold back his excitement at being so close to attaining such a treasure. It almost made him forget why he'd approached Isobelle in the first place - so she could summon something that would help him find his son Baelfire. He glowered at the voices of the previous Dark Ones in his head, each echoing and prodding him to make a deal for the brooch rather than an object to aid in finding his son. Ignoring them, he gritted his teeth and returned his attention to Isobelle. "So, rather than gold, you want what? Aid that will win you this potential war and wipe out your enemies?"_

_"Gods, no." Isobelle exclaimed, taken aback by the suggestion and winning a look of surprise from Rumplestiltskin. "No. I simply want you to return this to the Legrands. Without...without them ever finding out I had it. Or how it was taken in the first place."_

_Listening to the knight's request, Rumplestiltskin remained quiet for a moment, bemused by such a simple request. Especially when he compared it to what he would get in return. "Dearie...it's a deal. Hee, hee, hee."_

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Storybrooke: Present

"Do I have to repeat myself? Hand over your granddaughter now." The gunman growled and stepped further into the room, his gun pointed directly at David. His wizened face scowling.

"...George…." David seethed, turning around to scowl at his deceased twin's adoptive father and one of his most hated enemies. He bristled seeing the gun and instinctively blocked Sadie's crib with his body. The older man repeated his demand, causing David to scowl. "Not a chance. Now put the gun down or you'll be spending the rest of your life locked up."

"Please. That's not much of a threat considering I have a year, at most, left." George retorted, his words a complete surprise to Gold who quietly watched the scene unfold from his niche, but not to David. The shepherd-prince eyes softened slightly, but otherwise kept glowering at the wizened man. "That's why you took pity on me and released me from that pathetic cell."

"I let you out so you could put your affairs in order and enjoy whatever time you had left not locked up." David said, still shielding Sadie from the older man's view, his heart pounding. He thought of shouting to wake his wife, but hesitated, his gut telling him that George would shoot the second he tried. As for waking his daughter...having been in need of a decent sleep, Emma had taken some medicine to help her sleep and likely would not be easy to waken. "...don't make me regret doing that."

"Believe me, you're not the one I planned to make regret his actions." The former king growled, his eyes livid and face as stoic and immovable as marble. "But that won't stop me putting a bullet in your head. And don't think your wife or daughter will save you. This ring…." He nodded to a silver band, with a brilliant navy blue diamond around, his middle finger. "It's enchanted to muffle any sound its owner doesn't want heard. No one outside this room will hear a thing. Now give me your granddaughter."

"Absolutely not. You'll have to shoot me first." David said, disconcerted by the former king's revelation. His eyes locked on the gun, his limbs tensing as he considered lunging at the older man in an attempt to disarm him. Noticing this shift, George's lips spread into a bemused but cold and weak smile.

"You really think you can get this gun before I fire? You can try, but there's already been two children dying this week, do you really want to risk a third?" He spat, his cold grin growing seeing the growing alarm in his adopted son's twin's eyes. "Or are you 100 percent sure my bullet won't end up hitting your granddaughter?"

"I…." David swallowed, fearful as he considered the possibility. His fear quickly shifted to suspicion and bewilderment, at first without him realizing why. But then he did and he gazed at George, his face holding a peculiar expression. "...two children? I get that whole town knows about Gideon, but only a handful know about Belle's miscarriage...how do you know?"

George gave a short, curt laugh. "Who do you think gave Fortunato the idea to…."

"What?!" Gold hollered from his niche and lunged at George before either man could react, forgetting all about hiding and biding his time to kidnap Sadie. Everything about Nemesis, Sadie, and the deal slipped from his thoughts, replaced by rage and blood-thirst. "You what?! You're the fucking bastard that hired him?"

"Gold?! Why are...how…." David gaped, thrown by the Dark One's sudden appearance; it took a few moments before he snapped out of it and hurried forward to stop Gold from choking George. "Gold! Stop!"

"Stay the fuck out of this!" Snarled Gold to David, his one hand wrapped around George's throat while his other wrenched the gun from the ex-king's grip. "This bastard is mine! I'm going to fucking make him wish for death. Beg for it. You hear me?" He snarled the last bit, addressing George directly. "I'm going to make every last day, hour, and minute you have left hell. You son of a bitch."

"Gold…." David tried to approach, but was repelled by some sort of barrier the Dark One had put up. "Don't. Please. Think about this…."

"Shut up, Charming. There's nothing to think about. This bastard…."

"Might be lying." David said, holding his breath a few moments until Gold paused, loosening his grip around George's throat a tad. Noticing this, David continued. "George is dying. Has been for the better part of a year now, and has about as long left. According to what the medical journals of this realm say, it won't be a gentle or pretty death. George may simply be lying to goad you into killing him."

"...then he's more foolish than any fool that's ever lived." Gold growled, still furious but refraining from crushing George's throat. Though he had little compunction against killing the ex-king, even if his claim of giving Fortunato the idea to attack Belle was just a lie because he had a death wish, Gold had little desire to be so used.

Feeling Gold's fingers loosen around his throat and his brain gradually getting over his surprise and temporary lack of blood flow, George listened to the two men. Rolling his eyes before his son even finished speaking, he attempted to speak. It took a few tries, his throat sore from the Dark One strangling him. "I...um...khrh...I'm...not lying." He muttered, scowling defiantly into Gold's face. "I did...uhr...give Fortunato the idea to...stab your wife."

Gold's brown eyes gleamed, filled with vehemence and his fingers twitched with the desire to feel the wizened king's throat snap beneath them. "You…."

"George, why in the world would you hire assassins to murder a child?" David muttered, his gut twisting as he looked at the man who'd raised his twin.

The ex-king cocked an eyebrow and shook his head. "You think that I…? No. I didn't hire Fortunato for that. He and Kidd were already planning to kill the boy and his mother for some...blood price or whatnot Maurice owed." George muttered, breathing in deeply every few words, and fearlessly staring Gold directly in the eye. "I simply paid Fortunato to add a certain...infertility poison...to the blade he used to stab Belle. The same one once used on my wife."

"...what?" David mumbled, flabbergasted. "Why would you…." He collapsed to the floor mid sentence, magically knocked unconscious by Gold with a wave of his hand.

George barely raised an eyebrow seeing the shepherd-prince splayed on the floor, annoyed by the younger man's interruptions nearly as much as the Dark One. "Now that his jabbering is done, we can get on with this. And…." He trailed off, startled by the expression on Gold's face. It was still livid, but also heavily shocked.

"...Maurice? Maurice owed the blood price?" Gold asked George, his brain reeling and his body nearly numbed by indescribable rage. "Belle's father?! Belle's…." Gold muttered, disbelieving it even as George nodded and said 'yes.' So many emotions flooded Gold, whirling as a torrent inside his brain. Anger, shock, betrayal, relief, guilt, fear, horror, dread...it was difficult to articulate which he felt most.

With how helpful Maurice had been the past few days, taking care of a distraught Belle since Gideon's death, Gold had started to view his father-in-law as family rather than an enemy. He'd even allowed him to move into a guest bedroom so Belle would have her father nearby to help while she grieved.

_'Well, that certainly explains why Maurice was so terrified when you mentioned killing anyone responsible for Gideon's death.'_ Mumbled his Dark One subconscious, a bit flippantly. _'It's too bad Fortunato already got to him, torturing Maurice would be really cathartic.'_ The imp paused, shifting his attention and self towards George. _'Though killing this fool very, very slowly will be just as cathartic.'_

Listening to the imp, Gold refocused on George, tightening his fist around the former king's throat and glaring at him. The corners of his mouth twitched. "You have no idea what I have in store for you, dearie." He seethed, squeezing the man's throat when George attempted to speak. "And don't think your dying state will save you. I can easily prolong your life so I can enjoy torturing you for years or even centuries." George's eyes widened, his fearless stare suddenly grown terrified, while Gold simply chuckled. "You never considered that, did you, dearie?"

George simply gaped and moved his lips soundlessly, able to barely breathe but not speak with Gold's hand vised around his throat.

"Let's 'get on to things', as you put it, shall we?" Gold sneered, raising his hand to cast a teleport spell.

_'Uh, um.'_ His Dark One subconscious interrupted, appearing between him and George. _'Forgetting a small something, aren't we?'_ The imp gestured towards the crib, where Sadie had started whimpering and was close to bawling. _'You are still going to take her, aren't you, dearie? You'll never have a better chance of getting away with it than now.'_

Gold turned towards the crib, considering what his subconscious said. It took less than one second for him to understand what the imp meant: for whatever reason, George had come for Sadie, something David would remember upon waking. If he played things right and used a little magic to make the shepherd-prince forget he was here too, Gold could escape suspicion for kidnapping the five-day-old. George would instead get the blame for it.

_'Well, dearie?'_ His subconscious asked, staring expectantly at him while he mulled over his options.


	30. Untitled

_It was warm, the flickering flames from the fireplace filling the cottage with light and heat. Everything was illuminated, the stone floor and handcrafted furniture, the decorations lining the walls. The light shone brightly on it all. Her eyes widened taking in her surroundings, and she wondered at how even just breathing in felt distant. As though it and everything else were happening to someone else or somewhere else. It took only a moment for her to figure out where she was, if where was the right word._

_"The dream world." Belle gasped, her eyes searching around the cottage expectantly, and her muscles tensing. She barely breathed until she noticed the cradle, and continued holding her breath until she saw the baby lain inside it. Her eyes glistened with tears of joy seeing the tiny bundle sleeping soundly. "My son...my baby boy." Holding back her tears, she picked him up and cradled him against her breast. "My…." She tensed as a hand suddenly touched her shoulder, and she held the baby more protectively against her. Her eyes tinged with a fierceness only a mother who'd lost a child could have. "Don't you…." She growled and peeked behind her, all her fierceness crumbling suddenly upon sight of the other's face. "Gid...Gideon."_

_"Mother…." Gideon smiled warmly at his mother, his form that of his adult self._

_"My son, you're here." Belle gasped, her throat tightening and her tears falling freely down her cheeks. Joy filled her eyes, her sorrow drowned out by sight of her son's smile. Along with her memory of the truth, until she felt the baby in her arms flailing its arms and legs. Glancing down at it and then back at Gideon, her brow knit. "You're…how are you here? This…." She looked around at her surroundings, at the cottage and hearth. The cradle the baby had been slumbering in. "Is this...just a regular dream?"_

_Gideon shook his head and grabbed his mother's arms, trying to stave off her collapsing in despair. "No, your first instinct was right, this is the Dream World."_

_"But how are you…." Belle's lips trembled. Though she'd never explicitly been told either way, she'd always thought only those living and dreaming could visit the Dream World. Yet...what of the baby in her arms? Was he too not real?_

_"Thank father for that." Gideon replied with a gentle smile, his eyes beseeching his mother to cheer up at least a little. His expression softened when Belle stared up at him, curious and confused. "While juniper trees cannot raise the dead, they do allow spirits to visit the Dream World and similar ephemeral realms…." Pausing a moment, he squeezed his mother's arms reassuringly. "Father...buried me beneath one."_

_"Buri…buried? He…." Belle closed her eyes, anguish, joy, despair, anger - so many emotions filled her, mixing inside her like a torrent. And while her son's kind grasping of her arms helped calm her despair, it did little for her other emotions. "He already buried you? I...I...no." Tears welled in her eyes again, these ones born of anger and betrayal. "The one thing...the one thing we should've done together...that there never should've been any question about doing together...and he...he did it alone? He…."_

_"Mother, please."_

_Belle swallowed and shook her head, pulling away from Gideon. Her emotions overwhelming her. Never before had she felt so betrayed by her husband, even more than when she'd thought he'd dosed her with the aging potion that sped up her pregnancy two years ago. Her stomach twisted at a sudden realization. "That...that's what Rumple was doing when Fortunato...when…." Belle tensed, remembering how the blade the assassin plunged into her abdomen felt. "...wasn't he?"_

_"Mother...mom. Please, calm down."_

_"Calm down? I…." Belle glared, teary-eyed, at her son. "I just lost you. We just lost you. And your father...buried you without me. He…." She faltered, her voice catching in her throat and her chin trembling. "If...if he hadn't…. Or if he brought me along, then…."_

_"Mother…." Gideon grabbed for his mother's shoulders, his own eyes filled with tears seeing her so upset._

__

_Belle shook her head, but didn't pull away this time. "...if your father hadn't been selfish...we'd still have your brother or sister to look forward to." She sucked in a breath and glanced down at the baby in her arms, half expecting it to have disappeared. Her brow knit with confusion seeing and feeling it still snug against her. Though she hadn't forgotten about the child from her earlier dream, her baby from Isaac's book, Fortunato's words echoed in her ears. "...how is this child…? Fortunato said I can't...that he cursed…." Her face brighten suddenly as an idea flashed in her thoughts. If it was a curse Fortunato had used, then surely it could be broken with her son's kiss, just like before when she was under a sleeping curse._

__

_"Mother…." Gideon gazed down at his mother, and smiled a small, sad smile. "...I'm not sure it was a curse Fortunato used. But it can't hurt to try." He added after a pause, before leaning down to kiss Belle on the forehead._

__

_"Actually…." A voice echoed through the cottage, which suddenly felt colder as the hearth fire died out and left them standing in complete darkness. As dark as a tomb. "...it can."_

__

x

__

Lying unconscious on a daybed beneath a heavily curtained window, Belle's face scrunched up. A chandelier flickered overhead, its light bouncing off the mahogany walls of the room and casting deep shadows. While the younger woman mumbled and turned fitfully in her sleep, the woman with the donkey skin cloak peered down at her.

__

No longer wearing the hood over her head, the older woman's face was no longer obscured from view; even under the flickering chandelier, anyone could see the similarities between her and Belle. Identical, except for a gray curl in the former's hair and a slight crease between her nose and cheeks.

__

_-"My, my. Aren't we living dangerously? This may not be against the plan, per se, seeing as you want to change a significant chunk of the future. But seriously…."_ Her subconscious muttered, chiding her. _"And lowering your hood….you know he'll be able to sense you." -_

__

"Eventually, yes. But right now his grief blinds him. Besides...it's not like he'll do anything to me." The woman muttered, and waved away her manifested subconscious. She scowled, her eyes narrowing as she shifted her attention towards the table in the center of the room. Littered with papers and books, some stacked neatly, others tossed into haphazard piles, the table drew her attention. Gazing at it with her head tilted to the side, she considered its messy surface, mumbling to herself before shifting her attention towards another one.

__

Small, barely bigger than an end table, the papers and whatnot that once cluttered its surface tossed to the floor beside it, this table held a wooden chest: aged and splintered. Placed within it were two crystalline hearts, visible due to its lid being no more than an inch of cedar ragged at the edge and unable to cover more than a third of the base.

__

"Hm…." The woman approached the chest, considering the two hearts and smiling a small, cold smile.

__

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

__

_It was dark, the sky outside the cabin window nearly starless and lacking any hint of the moon, while inside the only light was that from the fireplace. The fire itself was weak, hardly more than embers smoldering amid the ash. Not enough to exude warmth nor light._

__

_Sitting in a rustic chair in front of the fireplace, he stared at the dying embers, not glancing up even when the cabin door opened. Or when his visitor, bundled against the chilly autumn night, shut the door and hung up her coat. He barely noted the cold, his magic protecting him against such trivial things as temperature, focused instead on the soft tread of his visitor as she approached._

__

_"...why are you here, dearie? Shouldn't you be off celebrating?" He grumbled, glancing at his visitor only when she knelt at the foot of his chair and reached for his hand. The paleness of her cheeks intensified by the straight locks of ebony hair streaming down to her shoulders, her blue eyes appearing gray under the sparse lighting, Sadie gazed up at him. Trepidation in her eyes._

__

_"I….I need to tell you something. I…I'm..."_

__

x

__

Gold sucked in a breath, his whole body tense as the vision passed. Having come unbidden just as he waved his hand and teleported himself, George, and five-day-old Sadie to his cabin, the vision bewildered him. It was the most vivid and real feeling vision he ever had, as well as the most straightforward. Yet at the same time most perplexing...and worrisome.

__

At least that's what he'd felt during it, watching the scene play out through his own eyes, unlike his other premonitions. Usually his visions steered clear of his personal future, especially the vivid ones, and instead showed him threads of others' people's fates.

__

"Now what?" George spat, glaring at Gold and holding Sadie in his arms. The fussy newborn wailed louder and louder, her tiny arms and legs flailing about. Unable to hold Sadie himself, the Dark One had demanded the ex-king to do so, or be tortured on the spot. "I assume you want this...brat...for something, considering you…."

__

Gold ignored the other man, his thoughts consumed by the vision and what it meant. Despite not hearing fully what grown up Sadie had been about to say, he knew what it was. Or felt like he knew - no doubt the result of his future self in the vision knowing or suspecting it himself. Yet...it couldn't…his suspicion couldn't be correct

__

"Why would she tell me that?" Muttering to himself, Gold shook his head and glanced at the five-day-old, whom a cankerous George had just placed on a cushioned chair. "Why…."

__

_-'Does it matter?'_ His subconscious interrupted, its imp form crooning in his ear. _'It's all moot, dearie. Once you hand Sadie over to Nemesis, her future is through. Nothing you foresaw will come to pass.'-_

__

Twitching as though trying to brush off an irksome pest, Gold scowled at the apparition's words, before approaching the tiny newborn. Peering down at her swaddled in a peach baby blanket, Gold's eyes shifted from cold determination to warm curiosity. Not as warm as when he held her at the sheriff's station, but warmer than when he decided to kidnap her.

__

Noticing the Dark One's focus on the infant, George eyed the cabin's exit. Every muscle in his body tensed with the urge to flee while Gold was distracted, but before he took even a step towards it, it vanished.

__

"I'm not done with you." Gold crooned, his finger still pointing at the door after casting his spell. Although he addressed George, he didn't even spare a glance at the wizened man, not even to see how his tone chilled the ex-king. Nor to see the man's expression shift from fear to loathing.

__

"Fine. If you're going to kill me, kill me. Torture me, whatever." George spat, turning to face the Dark One despite his survival instinct shouting against it. "I knew I was a dead-man the moment I hired that jester."

__

His lips pressed into a thin line, contempt darkening his face, Gold glowered at George.

__

"...it'll take more than an angry glare to frighten me, Dark One." George continued, his straight spine and rigid posture defying the fear eating at his gut. "Especially coming from a coward who'd kidnap a baby and pin it on anoth…." He started gasping, cut off mid-sentence by Gold magically choking him.

__

"You call me a coward?" Gold seethed, as he choked the other man. "You hired an assassin to murder an unborn child. You…."

__

"I did not." George rasped, unable to speak loudly while his throat was being magically squeezed. "Fortunato was already going after Belle. I simply paid him to…." He flinched at the rage lighting Gold's eyes.

__

"A moot point." Gold growled, stepping close enough to George to physically squeeze his throat. "You knew the bastard's plan and you gave him ample incentive. Or am I wrong about this," With a flourish of his free hand, Gold summoned the small red-orange gem he'd taken from Fortunato, and showed it to George. "...originally being yours?"

__

Seeing the gem in the Dark One's hand, George froze. "You found him?"

__

Gold's lips twitched. "You expected I wouldn't? Really, dearie? Heh." He chuckled coldly, relishing in the fear that now marred the ex-king's face. "Or did you think his foolhardy attempt to summon the dagger from me would actually work?"

__

"I...it...it should have…." His face pallid and body shaking, George stammered, drained of his earlier bravado. Though not originally counting on the assassin's plan to steal the dagger, once Gold threatened him with years of torture rather than death, George had quietly hoped that Fortunato's plan would succeed.

__

"Yes, well…." Gold muttered, magicking the gem back to his basement and summoning Fortunato's tanto in its place. "Too bad for you, dearie, the fool got ahead of himself and tried summoning the dagger without using Fortuné's chest." Holding the ex-king firmly by the neck, his fingers itching to simply crush the bastard's throat, Gold pressed the tanto's blade against George's face. A dribble of blood pooled from beneath the keen blade seconds after it touched the man's skin and slid down his pallid cheek. "...we both know you're a dead man. The only question now is how long to torture you?"

__

"I...um…." George swallowed, eyeing the blade pressed against his face and feeling the cut of it as it pierced his skin. Slicing right through it while the Dark One slid the tanto across the ex-king's cheek, opening a deep and angry gash there. The wizened man barely flinched even as the blood poured down his cheek, and simply eyed the blade. The scarab-skull mark, especially. "That is...the assassin's blade..." He mumbled, ignoring the piercing glare Gold gave. "Interesting."

__

"Interesting?" Gold growled, infuriated by the other's nonchalant reaction. "I'll show you 'interesting' when I use this to eviscerate you and…."

__

"Why aren't you using the Dark One dagger?" George interrupted, his tone remarkably calm. Strangely, infuriatingly calm. As though oblivious to his wound and the anger of the Dark One. "I thought you'd be using it."

__

"Why the fuck are you so calm?" Gold snarled, tossing the tanto and slamming the ex-king against the cabin wall. His eyes darkened with fury and he held his arm against the wizened man's neck, using that to pin him against the wall and slowly choke him. "Well?" Getting no answer, at least not quickly enough, he plunged his hand into George's chest. "You're going to answer, even….."

__

"Good. You get it now." George replied a moment after Gold fell silent, the latter's hand in the former's chest grasping for a heart that wasn't there. "I was beginning to wonder if I'd have to just blurt it out." The wizened man drawled and despite it being his voice heard, the words were not his own.

__

Gold scowled.

__


	31. Nemesis

Storybrooke: Gold's Cabin

"I...have a proposition for you." George spoke, annoying Gold even though he knew the ex-king wasn't the one truly speaking. "A deal, if you like."

"And what makes you think I want anything you have to offer?" He scoffed, wrapping his hand once more around the ex-king's throat but refraining from squeezing it. "This bastard doesn't need his heart in his chest to be killed. I can just as easily crush his throat...or tear out his intestines."

"Go ahead. I despise George just the same as you. More actually. And I have his heart." The person spoke coldly through the ex-king, while Gold cocked an eyebrow. "We can have a race to see who can kill him first. Preferably after you and I have a little tête-à-tête."

"...hm." Gold waited a moment before replying, his imp self hissing at him to forget whoever was speaking through George and instead focus on bringing Sadie to Nemesis. Getting his dagger back took priority over whatever deal or whatnot this new interloper wanted. "Tell me who you are first, dearie. Or better yet, show yourself and let's have our little talk face-to-face."

"You don't trust me?"

"Well, those who refuse to make deals with me in person tend to be cowards or hoping to get away with not fulfilling their end." He replied, about to say more when Sadie started crying and drew his attention away. In that moment, while his eyes were focused on the five day old, George took out a knife and lunged at the Dark One. Gold was quicker, flinging George across the cabin with a single wave of his hand and glowering when the knife clattered to the floor. "See? Coward." He growled and squeezed the ex-king's throat, holding the wizened man firmly against the cabin wall. His angry eyes shifting towards the knife that had clattered to the floor.

It was an ordinary enough pocket knife, except for the dark substance coating its tip. He bristled upon recognizing it as dreamshade though mixed together with another substance. Likely one that made it deadlier, he mused as he picked it up, being careful not to touch anywhere near the poison.

"Nice try, dearie, but you'll have to do better than that if you want to kill me."

"Oh, but I don't. " George spoke, while another, more lulling voice also spoke the same words. Its owner standing behind Gold, who tensed in shock at the familiar voice. "On the contrary, I came back to stop that happening."

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Dream World:

"Actually…." A voice echoed through the cottage, which suddenly felt colder as the hearth fire died out and left them standing in complete darkness. As dark as a tomb. "...it can."

"What? Who's there?" Belle tensed and grabbed Gideon protectively, realizing only then that the baby she'd been holding had vanished. Her eyes widened, searching the darkness around her frantically for any sign of the baby or clue to where it had gone. "Where's…."

"Mom, it's alright. Just calm down." Gideon grabbed hold of his mother, pulling her back towards him when she tried rushing into the darkness searching for the baby. "Stay here."

"But...my baby...your brother..." Belle trembled and pulled away from her firstborn, her eyes and senses locked on the darkness surrounding them. Peering into the lightless void, a snippet of her dream at the hospital flashed through her thoughts: that of the page with the words 'find me' written over and over. "I have to find him. I…."

"Mother, please. It's too..." Gideon beseeched, reaching out for Belle only for her to hurry forward blindly, searching for her lost child. He bit his lip, unable to bring himself to finish his sentence. How could he possibly tell his mother the truth about the child she sought? That the child - his Unwritten brother - was the mastermind behind his murder?

"No, no. This won't do." The voice from earlier muttered, its owner standing behind Gideon. There was a snap of fingers and their surroundings were once more lit, this time by an orb of pure magic floating just below the ceiling. It illuminated the whole cottage, allowing Gideon to see Belle on the far end, searching for an exit. He hurried towards her.

"Mother…."

Belle frowned, now that the cottage interior was once again illuminated she saw there was no door along the wall. Yet just before the hearth fire died, she swore the door had been along this wall. That's why she ran towards it. Her chin scrunched up as she thought, her eyes shifting towards the other walls just in case.

"...search all you like, there's no door." Nemesis muttered and sat down in a wooden chair by the hearth. Sighing, he started picking his nails, his youthful face reflecting only ennui.

"But ther…." Belle faltered mid-reply, having turned around enough to see both Gideon and the youth. Her cerulean eyes widened, lingering on Nemesis, drinking in his eye shape, skin tone, and cheek bones; the way he glowered at his fingers focused on what he was doing, his brow knitted in concentration. It reminded her of…. On the whole, she wasn't sure, but the scowl reminded her of her husband, while the rest reminded her of a portrait hung on the wall of her family's armory back in the Enchanted Forest. Placed above a suit of silver and steel armor, the painting was one depicting the knight Isobelle, her family's oldest known ancestor. And whom her parents had often mentioned she took after growing up.

Nemesis glanced up, the quiet baffling him. He'd been expecting his would-be mother to make a fuss or question his certainty about the door. Or simply question his presence. What he hadn't expected was this prolonged silence. "Hm?"

"Oh!" Belle gasped the moment the youth glanced at her, recognizing the deep-brown, speckled with a lighter brown, irises. It all clicked in her head, and without hesitance she hurried forwards. "You're my son….my….the one Isaac wrote…." She muttered and reached out to hug Nemesis, overwhelmed by happiness and relief. "You…."

Nemesis scowled and knocked away the chestnut haired woman's arms, but didn't deny his identity. Nor did he react to the stricken look on Belle's face at the rebuff, instead opting to frown cooly at her. "What of it?"

Belle blinked back her tears, brought forth first by happiness then by anguish at her unwritten son's reply. The indifference in his voice, the way he stared at her like she meant nothing...it cut her deeply, like a sharpened iron poker thrust into her heart. "I…. You're my boy…my..."

"Please." Nemesis scoffed, sitting rigidly beside the hearth, and eyeing Belle contemptuously. "You only want me because you lost him." He gestured towards Gideon, who hung back unsure of what to do.

Belle blanched and flinched at the accusation, before quickly shaking her head. "No. That's not…."

Nemesis snarled and rose to his feet, standing just an inch or so taller than the chestnut haired librarian. "Don't lie." He spat, the light orbs illuminating the cottage sparking and a cold chill rushing through the air. The air felt heavy. "Don't!" Nemesis hissed when Belle tried once more to refute the accusation. "You would not even have thought of me if he hadn't died. I've seen that future. Observed every minute of it. You never once considered me in it."

"I…." Belle shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears. She approached Nemesis, only to be rebuffed a second time, this time more violently. A gasp escaped her when Nemesis back-slapped her hand away, and glared down at her. Her chin quivered as she returned the stare, gazing into her unwritten son's cold brown eyes. "...I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" Nemesis scoffed, dismissing the woman as much for spite as from genuine anger. "You think that's enough? Really?" His brown irises darkened, and he pulled away when Belle reached out for him a third time. "I was Unwritten. Do you have any inkling what that entailed? One moment I was alive in a bright and warm world, safe and loved. Then it all was abruptly wiped away, and I was left in an immense void, with nothing but brief memories of my 'life,' and no idea what had happened or why." He growled and turned back to his chair by the hearth, only instead of sitting down he disintegrated it with a wave of his hand. Its remains just dust piling on the floor.

Belle swallowed listening to her unwritten son recount his time in the void, which was at the heart of the Realm of the Unwritten. She shivered, silent tears running down her cheeks as Nemesis described it and how it nearly fully erased him. "I'm sorry. I…." Belle's voice broke, her arms shaking with the urge to embrace her unwritten son, but refrained from fear of being yet again rebuffed.

"Mother." Gideon hurried to his mother's side, and wrapped his arms around her to soothe her. Unlike his brother he noticed their mother's distress and sought to comfort her, whereas Nemesis simply turned away. "It's all right. It's…."

"No." Nemesis growled, still turned away. His gaze focused on a glass orb on the mantel above the darkened hearth. Through its reflective surface he watched his mother and brother, scrutinizing them secretively. "It's not. And an apology, no matter how heartfelt, isn't enough. An 'I'm sorry' won't give me what I seek. It won't..." He peered at Belle's reflection in the orb and listened to her sniffle, his thin lips twitching. His brown irises gleamed coldly. "...help bring me back."

Listening to her unwritten son, as well as Gideon who tried reassuring her against Nemesis barbed words, Belle sniffled, and glanced up. Dabbing at her eyes to clear away her tears, her cheeks glossy from crying, she mulled over Nemesis' shift in tone: his last few words were less angry, not by much, but enough. Latching onto the shift, her heart quickening in hope, Belle gandered at her unwritten son's back, going over the last part of his sentence. "Help...bring you back? You mean…."

Standing beside their mother, Gideon tensed as she stepped towards Nemesis, her face lighting up. The maternal longing in Belle's eyes was clear as was her hope, and he was loathed to shatter either. At the same time he distrusted his would-be brother. "Mother, don't…."

"Yes." Nemesis cut off Gideon, and turned his gaze to Belle. "I can be returned to the story."

Belle inhaled sharply, her cerulean eyes brimming with tears, but these ones of hope not despair. She reached out tentatively towards her unwritten son. "You mean...I can...I can be your mother...I can have you, my baby, again…."

"I can be your flesh and blood son again, yes." Nemesis replied, allowing Belle to grab hold of his arms, her eyes searching his. "It...it'll require a few things. But I can be brought back into existence."

"Mother, don't listen to him." Gideon grabbed hold of Belle's wrist, caught between his conscience, which implored him to warn his mother about Nemesis' cutthroat nature, and his heart which cautioned him against telling her Nemesis was Nemesis. If their mother learned her unwritten child had orchestrated his murder and that of her unborn child...Gideon feared she would break. "There's bound to be a great and terrible price to do what he says."

"Gideon…." Belle glanced at her deceased son, her chin scrunching up.

"Please, mother, don't listen to him. Look to the future, not the past." Gideon implored, Nemesis smirking quietly when his brother mentioned the future, as though laughing at a private joke. Gideon ignored him and squeezed Belle's hand, before embracing her in a full hug. "You can still have a happy future. And a future child, once the curse or whatnot Fortunato placed on you is dealt with."

"Ah, actually…." Nemesis interjected, earning a scowl from Gideon and a wide-eyed gaze from Belle. "It wasn't a curse Fortunato used when he stabbed you. Rather it was a potion. He only called it that before you sealed him away to act as a safeguard."

"Safeguard?" Belle muttered, searching her unwritten son's face, curious. Gideon wore a similar expression.

"Yes. Fortunato…." Nemesis paused, drawing out the other's name and reaching towards his mother's cheek. "Is powerful. I couldn't even stop him." He muttered, his lips twitching when he sensed Gideon bristling beside Belle, his brother worried about him revealing too much. Without even needing to ask or glance at his brother, he understood Gideon's fear about their mother finding out he was the leader of the Nemesis assassin group. "You did, though." He glanced down at their mother's hands, the faintest glow emanating from them in shape of a gilded-scarab marking. Belle shivered and followed his gaze to her hands, a mix of emotions filling her. "Now, the magic you used to trap Fortunato is powered by these markings...the symbol Nemesis adopted as...its...own."

"Mother?" Gideon swallowed and grabbed hold of her hand, reluctant to believe his eyes as he discerned the traces of dark magic exuded from those faint markings. Up until that moment, as he had missed many of the developments in the living world, Gideon had assumed Belle had used some sort of light magic to seal the assassin. "You didn't…."

"I…." Belle raised her hand up, glancing over both sides of it, and studying the marking, which tingled on her skin. Even now part of her regretted giving into the magic, but she knew she wouldn't have done anything different - she had sealed the bastard away and got revenge without killing.

"She did. She used the marks' power to get revenge." Nemesis answered Gideon, while their mother flexed her hands and knitted her brow at the persistent soft glow of the markings on her hands. "Setting aside the price of her choice and what that will mean, the markings themselves are a curse."

"Then...that means they can be dispelled by true love's kiss…." Gideon's face brightened, his eyes searching his mother's face as he grabbed her by her upper arms and drew her towards him. His exuberance mellowed slightly when she didn't look at him, but rather continued to silently gaze at her hands, lost in thought. "Mother?"


	32. The Cloaked Beauty

_Dream World:_

_Belle heard her son as though he was far away, her brain wild with thoughts; some dealing with the markings and the magic it gave her, others dealing with whether she did the right thing avenging her father and unborn child by sealing Fortunato. Yet another wondering what would happen if she lost her new magic, and she glanced up at Nemesis. "You said Fortunato lied as a safeguard. What did you mean by that?"_

_"Exactly the thing you're thinking now. You can break the curse of the gilded bug...mark, but doing so will weaken your seal on Fortunato. Allowing him the leeway he needs to free himself." Nemesis replied, grinning at the stricken expression that appeared on Belle's face. The fair-skinned beauty's cheeks paled further in horror._

_"That...that bastard….he wanted me to think my infertility was cursed-caused so he could be freed." Belle's eyes narrowed and her face scrunched up thinking how the assassin's last claim nearly tricked her into undoing her work to seal him. Beside her, Gideon's own expression shifted from trepidation at the curse marks, to one of pondering._

_"Yes. But...you have to. At least if you want to have future children." Nemesis spoke, Belle and Gideon glancing towards him in shock at his words._

_"But…why?" Belle blinked, her cerulean eyes imploring her unwritten son to answer. "If it was an infertility potion, then certainly another potion could undo it."_

_"Normally yes. But there is an eensy-weensy detail about the curse mark Fortunato didn't know. The gilded-scarab-curse mark is imbued with the power of the unwritten realm itself. All its magic derives from it. Which in turn makes all those marked with the gilded mark, not exactly unwritten, but enough like it that they can't...procreate." Nemesis watched his mother's face closely, locked on her eyes and their expressive nature. "Fortunato's infertility poison was really redundant. You won't be able to bear another child unless you break the curse."_

_"But…." Belle blanched, her stomach twisting and heart rapping painfully against her rib-cage. "That'll free Fortunato. That…."_

_"Mother, it's…." Gideon hugged his mother, noticing the tears starting to well once more in his mother's eyes._

_"After I sealed him away, I have to…choose? Choose between bearing another child or revenge?"_

_Nemesis shrugged, and crossed his arms, leaning against the cold hearth. "...you can always choose me. To help me with my plan to return. It doesn't require birth since I was already part of the story once. Thus you'll be able to have a son and revenge. Revenge you accomplished." He paused, his mouth twitching seeing his brother grimace. "Of course you could undo the curse and then let someone else reseal Fortunato, but...that seems an awful waste. It's you who deserves vengeance the most. Are you really going to let someone else…."_

_"What do I have to do?" Belle interrupted, staring into her unwritten son's face, cool determination reflected in her eyes, and taut jaw and chin._

_"Do? To…?"_

_"To bring you back. What is it you need me to do? I'll do anything. Anything it takes."_

_"Mother!" Gideon exclaimed, and grabbed for Belle's arms, his face drained from fear and horror. "Don't...you don't know the price…." He pulled his mother's attention towards him, Belle's cerulean eyes softened gazing at him, before hardening._

_"I've lost so much already...I can't lose this chance." Belle whispered to Gideon, before turning back towards Nemesis. "What do you need me to do?"_

_"You promise to help?" Nemesis asked, his eyebrows raised in disbelief as Belle nodded, and he mumbled something indiscernible under his breath. Jerking his head as though shaking off an unwelcome thought or pest, he addressed Belle. "Good. I already have what I need, or at least I'm close to attaining the objects I need. That only leaves one thing." There was a long pause as he mulled over what to say, how to explain what he needed. "A proxy. I cannot manifest for long in Storybrooke or the Enchanted Forest, even using a borrowed form. But the spell required to bring me back takes a while to enact. Thus I'll need you to do the actual casting when everything's set. Will you?"_

_Belle blinked and drew back, a memory from years back popping up in her brain. One from right before Gold and the others left to rescue Henry from Neverland. She was left behind and tasked by Gold to cast a protection spell, a request that upon reflection always felt discouraging. "That's...all? I'm just a stand-in, a proxy to cast your spell?"_

_"...would you rather I ask father to do so instead?" Nemesis countered, jerking Belle out of her self-pity. "Of course, the spell wouldn't work if he cast it..." He trailed off briefly, the his words indecipherable for a few moments. Then he shrugged and once more addressed Belle. "So you, mother, are the only one who can cast it. The only one who can return me to the story. It's not some minor spell anyone can cast. You alone can cast it. So...will you?"_

_Belle stood quiet and motionless a few moments, thinking, before nodding. Her cerulean eyes alight with quiet determination. "Yes, I will. I promise."_

_"Good." Nemesis muttered, his mouth twitching into a smirk before the whole cottage was plunged in shadow. He sensed his mother shiver as he whispered in her ear. "Because it requires you sacrifice Hook's and Emma's daughter. Her death will mean my rebirth." He grinned, merging with the shadow like a drop in an inky abyss._

x

Belle gasped and sat up, the blood draining from her face. A chill raced down her spine, and it wasn't until she saw the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, that she realized she'd woken. Next she realized she was no longer in the cavern beneath the library, but rather in a medium sized room sparsely furnished. Aside from the daybed she was lying on, there were just a few average sized tables piled high with papers and books and a smaller table near the center of the room on which something glimmered red.

Hugging herself and sitting quietly on the daybed while the light streaming from the chandelier highlighted her pale cheeks, Belle focused on her unwritten son's parting words. "He can't...he can't really expect me to kill a child…or anyone. Even if it's the only way…."

Her heart cleaved and a terrible despair gnawed at her stomach; throughout her visit in the dream world, after meeting her unwritten son in his grown form, she'd felt hopeful. Even as he snapped at her and rebuffed her, she felt hope. If he existed there, she knew there had to be a way to bring him back. And she had been open and willing to endure or do anything to restore him.

At least until she learned it would require killing.

Belle's lip quivered, her chin scrunching up as she thought of her unwritten son and her promise. _'I can't...I won't be able to keep it. I just….'_

Click!

Her body tensed hearing the sound of a handle being turned, her eyes darting over the room to figure out where the door was. Fear and confusion filled her when her gaze fell on the room's only door - it hadn't moved, neither was its handle being turned. Her brow knit and she started to rise to her feet, curious about where she was and who'd brought her there. Anything to set aside the what her unwritten son wanted of her and the dread that she'd either have to break her promise or do something horrid and unforgivable.

Belle gasped, another sound breaking the quiet of the room. This one the shuffling sound of a wooden window being dragged against its frame, repeatedly, like someone was trying to open it only for it to fall shut again. "Oh!" She spun around searching for the window it came from. There were five in total, each shuttered tight against the outside world as well as covered by embroidered curtains. She stood motionless for a moment - between the heavy curtains muffling it and the acoustics of the room itself, it was nigh impossible to tell which window it was being opened. At least by sound alone.

"Hm." Belle glanced at each, her blue eyes quietly noticing one windows' curtain swaying more than the others and a few rays of morning light brightening the floor below it. Curious, she approached it, her footsteps muffled by the carpeted floor, and hesitating just a second longer, she threw open the curtain.

"Wha…" Isaac sucked in a breath and froze, a deer frozen in headlights look upon his face. Belle likewise stilled staring at him, and neither moved or spoke until a loud crash broke the silence. Immediately after the noise, Isaac grabbed the window frame and clinged on tightly, the ladder he'd been on having broke free of his legs and crashed to the earth below. Isaac paled. "Shit! Ah! Eeeh...el...help."

"Oh!" Belle grabbed the man's arms, stopping him from falling and helping him into the room. "I got you." She reassured him, pulling him through the open window as quick as she could. And after he was safely over the sill, which was just in the nick of time as the loose window fell shut just seconds later, Belle noticed they were on the third floor.

"Th...thank you." Isaac muttered, taking deep breaths to still his adrenaline palpitating heart. "I'm never doing that again." He shook his head, glancing at the now shut window, a large crack spread across its surface from impact. "I don't care what he wants. He can…."

Belle ignored Isaac's muttering to himself and just stared at the ex-Author, slivers of hope poking through the tendrils of despair in her heart.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Surrounded by towering pines and cypresses, the young woman paced from one end of the small clearing to the other, nearer the edge of a lake. Her reflection on the still water revealed her puffy cheeks and blue eyes reddened from unshed tears. "I can't...but if I don't…."_

_Sadie shivered, wrapping her arms around herself, her ebony hair falling over her face; a few strands sticking to her wet cheeks. The last vestiges of the setting sun illuminated her pearl skin with an orange and rosy glow, and she gazed fretfully down at her reflection._

_Her heart jumped at the sudden rustling noise coming from the twilight darkened trees, and she froze; her whole body trembled listening to the footsteps approaching. She quickly spun around, scowling at the interloper clad in a donkey skin cloak. Her hand was poised to throw a ball of magic at the older woman, but after a brief whispered threat and a glimpse of something in the other's hand, Sadie stifled her spell._

_"Please, don't…." Sadie pleaded, staring at what she could see of the older woman's face beneath the cloak hood. "Don't."_

_"Do what I said and I won't." The older woman replied crisply, before mumbling something after which she disappeared in a cloud of smoke._

x

Storybrooke: Present

"Oh, but I don't. " George spoke, while another, more lulling voice also spoke the same words. Its owner stood behind Gold, who tensed in shock at the familiar voice. "On the contrary, I came back to stop that happening."

It was a cherished voice, one he'd recognize anywhere, one he heard daily...yet Gold had never heard its dulcet tone sound so chilling before. Combined with the ex-king saying exactly the same words like some bizarre stereo, proof that the woman behind him was the one holding George's heart, the voice froze the Dark One. He barely cared to consider how easily his interloper had gotten through his cabin's magical defenses.

He swallowed as the woman stepped closer, and recalled a vision he had hours ago within moments of returning to Storybrooke, one in which a 17 or 18 year old Sadie was being threatened by a cloaked figure. A figure he had recognized by voice alone, the same voice as the woman now stepping into his sight holding king George's heart.

His breath caught at sight of the woman's chestnut curls and fair skin, her cerulean eyes catching his brown ones as they roamed over her face.

 _'Beautiful.'_ He couldn't help thinking, even as he noticed the aged creases on her face and the single graying curl amid the chestnut ones. Though when she held up George's heart and crushed it without word or hesitance, Gold tensed, shaken by the action and the impassive gleam shining in those cerulean eyes. The expression one he never expected nor desired to see on the other's face. He shivered as she stepped closer, his premonition once more flashing vividly in his head.

"Belle…." Gold spoke, understanding a lot from the coldness in his wife's gaze and tone of voice, as well as the clear signs of age. This woman standing just inches from him now - his wife, the woman he loved - was not from the present. She was the version of his wife from his vision, the one he heard threatening Sadie in the future.

"I prefer Lacey." The chestnut haired beauty interrupted, and smirked smugly as Gold's eyes widened then narrowed, his clever brain understanding even more than before. "To save time with tedious questions and get on with what I'm here for, yes I'm from the future and yes, this…." Here she pulled out a dagger from its sheath on her hip, its magic causing Gold to bristle once it was no longer concealed beneath Lacey's cloak. "Is the Dark One dagger. From the future as well, of course."

Gold stepped backwards instinctively the moment he saw the dagger in Lacey's hand, fear racing through him. Though he trusted Belle and knew she wouldn't stab him with it, he had no certainty about her curse-persona. Lacey had been dark and drawn to power, manifesting the opposite of all of Belle's qualities, including her ability to bring out the best in him.

It still chilled him as he recalled how close he came to killing Henry years back, prodded by Lacey encouraging him to not let anything or one stand in his way. It wasn't farfetched to think that a persona like Lacey's wouldn't hesitate to stab him, desiring his power for herself.

"You trust me even less now." Lacey pouted petulantly, though the gleam in her eyes was more sultry in nature. "Should I have pretended to be my better self?" She asked, rolling her eyes at the word better. For a second it seemed she was about to mimic Belle, but then she merely shrugged and shook her head. "Why bother? After all, you may not sense it through this cloak I have, but you can read, can't you?" Lacey chided, holding the dagger in the light of the sunrise streaming through the windows, allowing clear view of the name it bore.

Belle.

"No." Gold muttered upon reading his wife's name on the ebony blade, his head filling with horrified thoughts, and a gamut of emotions spinning inside him. "It...can't be. You can't….She can't be…."

"I assure you. I am. She is - ur, will be the Dark One." Lacey lilted, gazing at Gold with a look that was a mashup of heartless disregard and lasciviousness. "18-ish years from now. You have time to get your affairs in order, yadda, yadda." She drawled, her words barely heard by Gold as he gawked at his wife's name engraved on the dagger. Shrugging, Lacey shifted her gaze from her - Belle's - husband and towards the baby bundled on the sofa. Her cerulean eyes, not as warm as Belle's, but lit with cunning and ardor, became ice gazing at Sadie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Sooo...what do you think of the identity of the cloaked woman being Belle's future self? AKA Lacey? AKA the future Dark One? This was something I planned from very early on in the fic, back when I was thinking of doing a time jump right after Gideon's funeral. (Which is why I've been so horrible to Belle, since I figure it would take a lot to turn her dark, and I originally hadn't thought of making her shift to Lacey...) I wrote and rewrote this cloaked woman is Lacey reveal as part of various earlier chapters but always cut it out as too soon. Also, I was wary of what you readers would think and if it would be too confusing...Hell, the plot I have for this is confusing to me sometimes, especially since there's much I wrote that I rewrote and changed before posting. And I have to reread the earlier chapters just to remind myself what I included and what I didn't.
> 
> PS: I know that I used that same premonition/scene of Sadie before, I just included it here again for both word count (since I want each chapter to be more than a certain number of words) and for reminding of the premonition Gold recalls to since I have included so many so far in this story.


	33. Lacey

Not a spark or hint of warmth filled Lacey's gaze as she stepped towards baby Sadie, bypassing her husband who was arguing with his subconscious over the verity of Lacey's presence. It was evident he was hoping she was a hallucination or a trick, anything to deny the name he read on her dagger. Her lips twitched, marveling at the shreds of hope Gold desperately clung to, and she let the donkey skin cloak slip completely from her shoulders.

Once it touched the floor, leaving her clothed in a simple pair of tight leather trousers and equally snug vest, her magic was no longer hidden. Gold sucked in a breath, fully sensing the dark magic emanating from Lacey. His eyes darted from where the beauty had shown him the dagger, to beside the sofa where Lacey now stood.

"Bel….Lacey?" Gold hazarded, a horrible suspicion gnawing at his gut upon seeing the chestnut haired woman standing less than a foot from the newborn. The way Lacey stood holding the dagger, her beautiful face filled with indescribable loathing - Gold tensed, and before the woman's hand even twitched, he magicked Sadie to him.

Lacey response was immediate, her scowl shifting towards the pawnbroker. Gone was the hint of flirtation in her eyes, as was the coldness, replaced instead by fiery anger. "Give her to me, Rumple."

Cradling Sadie in his arms, Gold shook his head and stepped backwards. His brain, still spinning from seeing his wife's name on the future Dark One dagger, struggled to make sense of his wife's curse-persona's hatred of the newborn. It didn't help that Sadie's magic had once more kicked in, robbing him of his magic and restoring his leg.

"Come on. Don't pick now of all times to do the right thing." Lacey lilted, an edge to her voice.

"The...the right thing?" Gold muttered, his heart racing listening to his wife's dark self and eyeing her hand wrapped tightly around the dagger. All he could do was hold Sadie protectively, the infant's innate magic still impeding his own. "I...I don't understand. You...want me to not…." He tensed and stepped backwards when Lacey stepped forward, her icy eyes speaking more with silence than anyone with words. "...do the right thing?"

"What is the right thing anyway?" Lacey countered, and pivoted slowly around, surveying the cabin. Her eyes observing everything, even how the shadows shrunk in the sunlight slipping in through the window. "Is it right to thrust an innocent child into a void that eats memory and will consume it until there's nothing? Is it right to forego saving that child from its fate?"

"That's…." Gold shook his head, chilled by Lacey's words and feeling sickened. He recognized it for what it was - an argument to manipulate a person's conscience. One designed to rationalize doing the wrong thing by twisting it to be seen as right. "This isn't you, Belle…."

"Lacey." Lacey hissed, stopping her visual search of the cabin to scowl back at Gold. "I'm not…."

"That name on the dagger says otherwise." Gold replied, his heart jumping seeing the glare the chestnut haired beauty gave him. "The Dark One dagger always reflects its owner's true name. You may call yourself Lacey but you are still Belle. You are still the woman I love."

"Really?" Lacey glowered at her husband, her tone subzero cold. "If that's so, you will hand that child over. You won't get in the way of what I need to do, if you love me."

Gold flinched, unsure if the pain piercing his heart was more from the ultimatum or from the other's implicit disbelief in his love. Just the thought that Lacey didn't believe him made him want to hand Sadie over, to capitulate just to prove he did love her and believed she was still Belle.

-"I….I need to tell you something. I…I'm..."- Sadie's voice from his most recent vision echoed suddenly in his thoughts, and he froze. Her words, though brief and cut off at the important part, made him hesitate. And although the vision of older Sadie meeting him in the cabin had cut off before he heard the 18-ish year old full sentence, he knew what it was. He understood what vision-Sadie had been on the cusp of telling him, and if both the vision and what he sensed from it was true, he couldn't hand the infant over. Not now. And not to someone with such loathing in their eyes and speech.

"Why?" Asked Gold, averting his gaze from Sadie but unable to gaze at Lacey either. Instead his eyes glanced away, alighting after a moment on the cloak the chestnut haired beauty had dropped. Simple and made from donkey skin, he recognized it. Its specially tweaked concealment enchantment was the only one of its kind, and seeing it be dropped by Lacey sent a strange feeling to his gut. A feeling he dismissed swiftly to focus back on his wife. "Why did you travel back through time? Why...What is it you 'need to' do?" He glanced back at his wife, his heart racing.

"What I should've done from the start." Lacey replied cryptically, before glaring at baby Sadie cradled in Gold's arms. The loathing in her eyes said all Gold needed to realize what Lacey wished to do.

"You...you want to kill Hook and Emma's daughter. You…." He shivered.

"...why so surprised, Rumple? It's not any different than your plan." Lacey chided. "You know the one where you were going to hand Sadie over to our unwritten son and allow him to sacrifice her to restore himself." She tilted her head to the side, her lips spread in a sultry smile. "Yes. I know about that. It's not something you can keep secret, especially not when to restore our unwritten son one of us has to cast the spell. He can't cast it himself." She paused, taking a moment to mull over a memory - a bittersweet one going by the glint in her eyes and the frown pulling at her lips. "Not that you would've let him do so and darken himself. Just like with…."

Blanching, the chestnut haired beauty's face contorted from sultry self-assured to painfully distraught. Unable to say the name on her lips, her words dried up in her throat, even as memories from when the Black Fairy had threatened Storybrooke filled her head.

Noticing her faltering and the pained gleam in her eyes, Gold instinctively approached Lacey, unable to bear seeing his wife's face filled with such anguish. He understood without asking what Belle's future self meant and understood whose name she was about to say to cause such anguish. Gideon.

"Belle…." Gold reached out towards Lacey, his heart cleaving seeing her anguish-contorted face.

"...just like back then," The chestnut haired beauty cleared her throat, and steeled herself against grief, before continuing. "You plan on casting the magic yourself so our son doesn't darken himself."

"...yes." Gold replied. He knew Lacey wasn't asking a question, but he had to say it. Rather than keep that choice to himself, one he entertained deep in his thoughts ever since he accepted that Nemesis was his son, it felt better sharing it. Bringing it out into the open. "I had planned to cast the spell myself, anything to stop our son going dark - or darker," He corrected, realizing that Nemesis' heart and morality were already pretty darkened.

"'Had planned'?" Lacey repeated, her attention centering on her husband's verb choice and tense. It could mean nothing, but…. "Are you not still planning to do so?" Her jaw tightened and the coldness returned to her eyes, overshadowing the tendrils of anguish beneath. The lack of her husband's response all she needed to realize the answer, and the way Gold glanced down at infant Sadie in his arms made it even clearer. "You can't do it? Why…." She bristled, her eyes widening briefly in understanding before narrowing. "You had a vision, didn't you? You looked into the future and saw…." Lacey trailed off and stormed across the room, muttering to herself.

Gold didn't reply, just listened to Lacey's tirade and glanced down at Sadie. The vision of a grown Sadie visiting him in his cabin, attempting to tell him something important, echoed anew in his head.

"You know then." Lacey spoke, reining in her tirade within seconds. Her cerulean eyes locked on her husband's face. "You and Sadie. You two…." She closed her eyes, bracing herself against the hate balled inside her. "You move on. With her."

"No." Gold countered, automatically denying the statement despite the premonition he had had and what he'd felt in it. The idea that he would ever move on from Belle was incomprehensible, utter madness. Even if she died and he was unable to follow her, trapped to eternity as the Dark One, he wouldn't move on. There was no way he'd ever love anyone else like he loved Belle. "That's a lie."

"You had the vision. You know it's not."

"Then the vision's a lie...or trick. There's no way I'd…" He faltered a moment as he recalled the vision. Though cut short, he knew what the 18-ish old Sadie was trying to tell him in it, that she was expecting and that he was... Gold shook away the thought. "That I'd ever love someone other than…."

"Who said anything about love?" Lacey muttered, a dour frown on her lips. "You don't need love to get someone pregnant. Seduction works just fine."

Opening his mouth to refute the other's argument, Gold faltered, Lacey's response catching him off guard. An uneasy feeling gnawed at his stomach and leached out into the rest of his body. His chest tightened. A cacophony of emotions whirled around his heart and head, the strongest one one that he rarely ever felt.

"And we both know you're not above using seduction to get what you want. Say like...revenge."

The last word struck Gold like a leaded hammer against his gut, his clever mind threading everything together: from his visions to Lacey's words and jealousy, even to how his wife had threatened Sadie in one of his visions. He glanced down reluctantly at the infant cradled in his arms.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Isaac ran his fingers through his hair, exhaling under the intense gaze of Belle's cerulean eyes, the librarian beseeching him with her words and gaze. The morning sunlight sneaked into the room from beneath the heavy curtains thronging the windows, while the chandeliers overhead glowed softly.

"There has to be something you or Henry can do. Some way to restore my and Rumple's son from your book."

"There is." Isaac replied, uncomfortable from the librarian's intensity as well as the guilt gnawing at him for his indirect involvement in Belle's loss. "Using Sadie's magic can restore..."

"No." The chestnut haired librarian shook her head, lips pulled together in a pronounced frown. "That...that requires killing her, correct? I won't sacrifice a newborn. Or anyone. There has to be some other way."

"..." Isaac sucked in a breath, guilt eating slowly at his insides. Although he'd accepted the possibility of crossing paths with Belle the moment he stepped over the town-line and into Storybrooke, he hadn't expected it this soon. Not only that, but Belle had just saved him from terrible bodily harm if not death from falling. The woman whose toddler son he had indirectly caused the death of by helping Nemesis with his plan, was standing in front of him and asking him for help.

He wanted to turn tail and run.

"Please."

It'd be heartless though, and his tirade against Nemesis for manipulating events that led to Gideon's death would be hypocritical, if he fled without at least trying to help. "I…." Isaac grimaced, turning away from Belle and running a hand through his hair. Fidgeting as he glanced around the room, his thoughts filled first with debate over whether to help and then second with how to help. "I…it is possible to return unwritten characters back into the story without sacrificing life. It still requires a major sacrifice, but the Author can return the Unwritten to the story."

Belle's face lit up, her puffy from tears eyes shining with hope at Isaac's words. "It is possible? My son from your book can be brought back? Without sacrificing Emma and Killian's daughter?" Isaac nodded at Belle's question, though he seemed a bit uncomfortable and like something was kneedling him. Her vision blurred from fresh tears, these ones of relief, Belle didn't notice the frown pulling at Isaac's lips. "Rumple and I can have our son back? We can…."

"No." The frown on Isaac's face shifted into a pronounced grimace, and he shook his head. Covering his face with his hands and mumbling under his breath for a moment, Isaac braced himself, more uncomfortable than ever.

"What?"

"That isn't possible."

"But you just said that…."

"Nem...your son can be rewritten and can be returned as your son. Could even be returned as a baby without any memories or any darkness in him." Isaac replied, before sighing and crossing his arms. "But the price…."

"I'll pay whatever price, so long it doesn't require sacrificing Sadie or anyone else."

"It won't. I didn't write him into the story originally to save someone, so that won't be the price. I wrote…." Isaac hesitated, his gut twisting as he considered his words and how to phrase the truth without causing too much distress for the distraught librarian. "When I first started experimenting with my Author powers, I learned what its limits were and what it takes to return unwritten characters back. It's not as simple as writing them back in. It requires sacrificing their original purpose."

"Their….their what?" Belle stared at Isaac, her heart beating painfully in her chest and her eyes burning with new tears. Dread knotted her stomach as she subconsciously understood the truth without needing Isaac to answer.

"Purpose. The reason the Author wrote them in in the first place. An example would be if they were first written to be a hero...to be rewritten once erased they must lose all heroic traits and destiny." Heaving a heavy sigh, Isaac met Belle's eyes. "The reason I wrote you and Rumplestiltskin a child in Heroes and Villains was to allow your husband a new chance at being a father."

Belle swallowed and covered her mouth, her cheeks gone deathly pale as her chin scrunched up and new tears threatened to fall. "You...you mean...that to bring our lost son back without sacrificing Emma and Killian's daughter, Rumple will have to give up...what? The chance to be in his son's life? To raise his son?"

"...worse." Isaac muttered and took in a deep breath, bracing himself. "He has to sacrifice all connection to the boy. Familial, biological…."

"No." Belle stumbled backwards, shaking her head in horror and despair. Disgust, too, as she thought a bit of the implications. If in order for their unwritten son to be rewritten, Rumplestiltskin had to give up his biological connection to him, that meant she would have to, with another…. "No. I won't. I…" She faltered, remembering her sojourn into the dream world and what her unwritten son said about Fortunato and her infertility. To even be able to physically birth their unwritten son, assuming that was a requirement considering he wasn't technically born even in Isaac's book, Belle would have to break the curse inflicted on her. An act that'd free the bastard who killed her father and unborn child, and provided who knew what help to the one who killed Gideon. "Even if I...Rumple would never give up his connection to our son. Never."

"...that's the price." Isaac flinched beneath the glare Belle gave him, her blue eyes livid. "If you want Henry to be able to rewrite your unwritten son into the story, that's what it will cost. That or Sadie's life."

Belle felt sick, her elation at hearing Isaac say it was possible to return her unwritten son without sacrificing a life drained until nothing was left but sickening horror. It made her want to scream at Isaac for giving her hope, for even suggesting it was possible to return her son. Give up all connection and any sort of relationship with their son? Belle knew her husband, and that sacrifice would be unthinkable to him, especially after losing Gideon and an unborn child.

"...I'm sorry. I wish I knew another way, but…." Isaac continued, his heart jumping seeing the scarab-mark on the back of Belle's hand, its gilded lines starting to glow in tandem with the anguished look on her face. "Those are the only possibilities I know that could work."

Belle scowled at Isaac, her wet cheeks glistening beneath the room's overhead lights.


	34. Best Laid Plans

_'Shit.'_ Was the first thing Regina muttered upon regaining consciousness, a sharp pain coming from her left temple. Touching it her fingers were coated with coagulated blood, slimy and dark red. She scowled seeing it and pushed herself off the rough cavern floor, hissing when doing so sent another sharp pain through her. This one from her ankle, which was swollen and covered with an angry purplish bruise.

Scowling, she waved her hand over her broken ankle, mending it with her magic and then did the same with the gash on her left temple. Once both were healed, she checked for any other wounds, and finding none she stood up. It was as she rose that she noticed Maleficent lying still unconscious a dozen feet or so from her.

"Hey." Regina called out to her friend and approached her, concerned for the dragon sorceress until Maleficent started waking up. It took a moment or so for the sorceress to fully regain consciousness, and a few more to heal her own bruises and scrapes. After she was fully mended, Maleficent glanced around the cavern.

"Where's Rumplestiltskin's wife?" Maleficent asked, recalling a bit of what had happened before the two of them had been knocked unconscious. She remembered Regina had managed to halt the scarab-skull mark infecting Belle, but not much after that.

"I...don't know." Regina replied, her tone crisp and filled with more meaning than the words she spoke. Unlike Maleficent she remembered their interloper's attack and recalled her uncannily familiar voice, identical to Belle's, and the words she spoke. Furthermore, seconds before being knocked out, Regina had managed to catch a glimpse of their attacker, of Lacey. "But we should find Rumplestiltskin, and call Emma and the Charmings. Things have gotten much more complicated."

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_Her cheeks paled and her cerulean eyes were wide as they took in the scene, her limbs grown numb in shock. Watching the dust of the crushed heart fall from the teenager's hand, she for the first time in years felt horrified. Felt like her stomach was tied in knots and felt her heart cringe as though it had been the one squeezed into dust._

_"No. This wasn't…."_

_Her ears barely registered the muttering from behind her, its owner gaping at the scene displayed through the large crystal ball same as her. All she could focus on was the onyx-haired teenager and the two older people rushing to their daughter's side. It wasn't until the blade of the dagger she held started glowing that she shifted her gaze from the crystal orb. Her eyes widened seeing the name on its blade blur, its tether to her husband weakening._

_Her stomach twisted, and anger that she hadn't felt in years filled her, the markings on her hands burning anew with it. Understanding creased her face even more than age had, and her hands shook increasingly as the golden curse marks seared her skin anew. 'No.'_

_"...wasn't what I…saw." Her husband muttered and backed away, no longer hindered from moving by the dagger she held. His voice grew more and more distant as he mumbled about some premonition, and continued to move away from the chestnut haired beauty. It wasn't until the loosened floorboard creaked that Belle blanched and spun around to face her husband._

_"Stop!" She howled furious and clenched the dagger hoping the command would still work, only to be greeted by her husband teleporting away in a cloud of magic. Worse, he'd taken along with him the newborn that'd been sleeping in the bassinet. The sight of the empty bassinet broke down the walls she'd built up, bringing back terrible memories and tearing open old, yet still healing wounds. "No." Turning back towards the crystal orb showing the wooded clearing where Sadie and her parents were, she scowled, her cerulean eyes filling with frustrated tears. "After everything...everything I lost….everything I sacrificed…Everything..."_

_Filled with anger, more fierce than she'd ever felt, she screamed and threw the dagger at the orb, shattering it. Watching the shards fall to the floor, their reflective surfaces no longer showing Sadie but simply reflecting her own face contorted with anger, she felt herself shatter. The last threads of her sanity and conscience disintegrating into the ether._

x

Lacey scrutinized her husband, lingering back cautiously a foot or so from him and mulling over her options. Despite not mentioning anything about it, she hadn't failed to notice Gold's sudden lack of magic - like how he sensed her dark magic the moment she shed the donkey skin cloak, she could sense his. Up until he magicked Sadie into his arms, though its loss hadn't registered with her for a few moments.

"You…." Gold mumbled, cradling the infant carefully in his arms while trying to make sense of everything. Lacey easily caught how his eyes darkened and brow furrowed in reluctance to believe what she'd told him. And what he likely saw in his vision. "You're saying I…."

"That you seduce Sadie when she's older in a revenge plot against her father? Yes." The chestnut haired beauty lilted, her fingers twitching with the urge to simply magic the baby right out of her husband's arms. It would be the simplest method and her subconscious urged her towards it, hissing at her to take advantage of her husband's lack of magic. But…it'd also be foolish. She knew about Sadie's magic. The moment she took the infant from Gold's arms, Sadie's reversal magic would be dispelled. Her husband would no longer be powerless.

"I…." Gold grimaced, a myriad assortment of emotion whirling through him, the strongest of which were hope and disbelief. "That's not...I planned to darken her heart, not…." He thought about his vision of Sadie crushing someone's heart, trying to discern from it some detail that could disprove Lacey's words or even his other premonitions.

"Not bed and impregnate her?" Lacey interjected, her eyes burning with a perverse delight in seeing her husband cringe. "Well, you do...though whether the latter bit was intended or not…." She shrugged and inched closer to Gold. "The former was, as you put it when I...Belle...confronted you in future, just a means for revenge. A plan to make Killian and Emma's daughter fall for you, in an effort to manipulate her father into banishing you from Storybrooke."

"Wha…." Gold jolted at Lacey's words, the tumult in his brown eyes aquisencing to surprise. "Banish? But…." He started and then trailed off, his gut twisting. His first instinct was to deny his wife's future self's words: it wasn't what he foresaw, nor was it his plan. He wanted to corrupt Sadie and make her crush someone's heart, not manipulate her parents into banishing him. After all that would….

"Hm." Lacey leered at her husband, the hints of a smirk pulling at her lips. One that widened into a malice filled grin when realization flashed across Gold's face.

"...I...that isn't…." He swallowed and glanced down at Sadie, his chest burning and sickening horror gnawing at his gut. Every last remnant of his conscience wanted to deny he was capable of such a cold machination. Not that he could deny he had zero qualms about using seduction as a method of manipulating others - he'd done so a handful of times after all through the centuries, to various degrees. But seducing a grown Sadie to manipulate her parents into banishing him, thereby breaking the deal they made with him to save their daughter's life...was darker than any plan he'd ever conceived. Similar to his own impasse with Zelena, the moment either Emma or Killian banished him would be the second the magic he used to save Sadie's life would fail. "That isn't what I foresaw. I….Sadie crushes someone's heart and grows dark. That's what I…."

"Oh?" Lacey chuckled, standing close enough to her husband that she could whisper in his ear. "That." She reached out to touch Gold's cheek, stopping just centimeters before her fingers touched his skin. Her eyes narrowed seeing him bristle from her near touch, both of them unsure whether in anticipation or aversion. "That part doesn't turn out as you expect it would."

"...How does it turn out?" Gold asked, gazing into Lacey's eyes, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. "Tell me. Perhaps I can change things and stop…." He hesitated, his eyes darting towards the Dark One dagger sheathed at Lacey's side.

"Stop me - Belle - from becoming the future Dark One, you mean?" There was a few moments of uncomfortable silence as a pair of cold cerulean eyes stared into brown. Lacey clicked her tongue, close enough to her husband to take Sadie from him without magic; yet she refrained. "Sorry, but that is also not as...simple...or straightforward as you'd think."

"Then explain. I'll…." Gold sucked in a breath at the sharp bite of a blade piercing his flesh. His eyes rounded in shock while Lacey simply glared coldly at him, before snatching Sadie and teleporting away. As he stumbled backwards and then to the floor, his frightened gaze shifted to his side where the dreamshade poisoned knife George had brandish was poking out.

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_"Shut up." Growled a black-haired teenager before she sent out a blast of magic that knocked Emma down. She hit the ground and hissed, pain shooting from her hip as a rock jabbed into her side. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to bruise, and draw her attention away from the teenager. "This is your fault! Your…." Livid blue eyes glared down at Emma, filled with anger and hurt._

_"Calm down…" Emma muttered and reached out to the young woman, readying her own magic but hesitating. Her pause just long enough to give the other the opportunity to throw another magic blast, pushing Emma back further. This time her head hit the trunk of a tree, knocking her senseless for a few moments._

_"If you hadn't….this...wouldn't've…."_

_Clenching her head, Emma attempted to focus on what the teenager was shouting, but was only able to catch a few words. Even when the black haired teen teleported just inches in front of her and Killian, Emma barely made out what either said. She did catch the young woman jabbing at the pirate's vest and hissing something that sounded like a threat._

_"Sadie!" Emma chastised the teenager, her voice fearful. Her vision blurred, it took a moment for her to see the crystallized heart in her daughter's hand._

x

Emma woke up abruptly and gasped at the vividness of her dream. It'd felt real. So real that her heart pounded and her hands shook, a sickening terror gnawing at her gut. It only grew once she reached out to wake up her husband, only to find his side of the bed empty. "Kil…."

Emma sighed and sat up, her expression sad as she gazed at the unused side of the queen size bed. It quickly shifted to confusion as everything about Kidd and the truth about the crash, came rushing back to her. Killian should've been freed. Regina had told her as much. Her bewilderment at her husband's absence lasted only a few seconds, replaced by a stronger emotion. Maternal fear.

"Sadie!" She threw off her blanket and rushed out of bed, the brightening sky outside her window doing little to alleviate her fear. Quite the opposite. It intensified it, and she hurried across the hall to her daughter's nursery, the rest of the house unbearably silent. Opening the door, her gaze focused on the direction of her daughter's crib, she nearly tripped over David lying unconscious on the floor. "Wh...dad?!"

Emma gasped at sight of her father, noticing out of the corner of her eye the handgun dropped onto the floor beneath the window. Though there seem to be no sign of physical injury to her father, aside from nasty cut on his forehead. Her attention immediately shifted from her father towards her daughter's crib, her maternal instinct raging within her. She hurried towards it, her heart racing. "Sa…."

'No.' Her heart jumped seeing the empty crib and her stomach twisted into an infinity of knots.

"Emma? What's…." Dressed in a cotton house robe, Snow entered the nursery, having been woken 30-ish seconds ago by the sound of her daughter's panic. Her own eyes grew round seeing her husband lying on the floor with an angry cut on his forehead. "David!" She hurried to his side and shook him, relief spreading through her when he started regaining consciousness. Relief that quickly vanished upon shifting her gaze to Emma and the crib. "Em…."

"...gone." Emma muttered, barely able to breathe, while behind her Snow's face reflected similar horror on sight of the empty crib. "Sadie's…." Her heart pounded, it taking all her willpower not to hyperventilate, so many worries and thoughts going through her head.


End file.
